Coping Strategy
by Molly Lyn
Summary: Everyone copes differently. Sequel to Scars & Stretchmarks. AKA Read that first or else I can't be blamed for you feeling 'lost'. Rated T because I drop occasional curse words, and there's probably some suggestive stuff in there. OH. And JAM.
1. Routine

**A/N: Alright… for context purposes this is set sometime after Slow Burn. That at least gives me full permission to include references to all episodes so far (aka spoilers), though so far this story has no direct links to any episode. Yes, I am basically just covering my bum here.**

**Oh, and it's the sequel to Scars & Stretchmarks, in case I didn't already say that… As such, it probably contains some kind of spoilers for that story, so if you haven't read it you should, and if you're still reading it I suggest putting this on the back burner til you're done.**

**Also… I'm posting this because I'm sad for not posting more, not because I'm ready to post. So, not sure when I'll update again. Sorry peeps.**

* * *

"You're such a baby."

"Am not…it's just…"

"Stop flinching. You're ridiculous."

Sam sighs, and flinches again. "Ok, seriously? Do you enjoy hurting people?"

"Yes, yes I do," Jules smirks and gives a wink. "What? Not into S&M?"

He rolls his eyes, and reclaims his arm. "My turn," he says, reaching for her hand. "No flinching," he tells her, spraying her finger with a healthy dose of disinfectant.

"Next time a call leads to a glassware shop I say you guys send Spike and Raf in."

"Agreed," he responds with a nod, adding another dose of disinfectant to the wound. "Ha! Now who's the baby?" he smirks as he finally manages to elicit a cringe from her.

"Bollocks!"

"Bollocks? Seriously? Jules, you've got to stop watching British soap operas."

"They're the most entertaining thing on at 3am. Besides, you did that on purpose."

"Maybe," he concedes as he finishes applying a bandage. "There, done," he smiles, pressing a kiss to her now bandaged finger.

"Well thank you nurse Braddock," she smiles as she turns around to face him. "I still can't believe the knife got away from me like that. In my defence I didn't expect you to look like _that_ when you walked in the door."

Shaking his head Sam lands a lingering kiss and pulls away with a smile. "So…"

Fighting back a grin Jules raises a brow at him. "Sam, you have to be back to work in less than 7 hours…"

Another kiss. "And?"

"And today you went backwards through a shelf full of glass bird ornaments…"

"So?" he asks, moving his mouth to the side of her neck. "Noah is sleeping…"

"Yeah, and I should be too."

"Hmmm sleep later…"

"You're a terrible influence on me."

* * *

He jolts awake at the sound of his overly shrill alarm clock, arm flailing frantically as he searches for the snooze button. Successfully silencing it, he lets his eyes close for just a moment and considers the possibility of a few more moments rest. Sadly, he's determined 8 minutes isn't going to cut it today. Probably best to just bite the bullet and wake up. Maybe he'll roll back over, see if he can't find a creative way to wake Jules up…

The sound of the shower starting tells him that won't be happening. She's up before the alarm again - he hates that, doesn't understand it. She doesn't _need_ to be up with the alarm, yet she insists on waking up with him just so she can shower before he leaves. He wonders if maybe she's afraid to leave Noah unattended while she showers. It makes him wonder if she avoids doing anything else while he's at work for the same reason. With a sigh, he lets go of his early morning hopes and drags his feet out of bed to the dresser, shuffling through the drawers until he finds something to wear for the drive in to work. Pipes moan down the hall as the water is shut off. For a woman, Jules sure showers quickly. He loves it.

"Good, you're up. I've got to go, Noah and I are meeting Sarge for coffee before shift starts."

He's rocked by an earth shattering yawn and gives her a half smile.

"Don't make that face. If you're tired it's your own fault."

"Hmmm, worth it." He grins at the memory, and moves to the hall closet to grab a towel. "Can you turn the coffee maker on on your way out?"

Jules smirks to herself as she searches for her own clothes for the day. "I already left you hot water, is that not enough?"

* * *

Sarge looks especially worn down today. Maybe it's the lingering effects of yesterday's hot calls, or maybe it has to do with something happening at home. Either way, Jules has resolved to get to the bottom of it before their orders are even filled.

"Big plans for today?"

"Oh, huge. After this, Noah and I are going home to see how many times I can be spit up on today," she grins, strokes the back of Noah's hand as he stares at Sarge. "He likes you."

Sarge nods, smirks to himself. "It's the bald head. Babies are mesmerized by it."

Jules just smiles as she settles into the coffee shop booth and takes Noah out of his carrier. "What about you? What hell will you unleash on team one today?"

Sarge just laughs, thinks for a moment. "Well, after yesterday's 'bull in a china shop' incident I'm thinking patrol."

"Ah yes, the china shop. How exactly did that happen anyway?"

The waitress arrives at the table, setting down their coffees before cooing at an uninterested Noah. She quickly takes the hint, moves on.

"Sam didn't tell you?"

Jules sighs, gives a small laugh. "He said the rookie has two left feet."

Sarge nods, takes a sip of his coffee before reaching his arms out to take Noah. He's become quite the uncle in the past few months and, though no one is willing to break it to Spike, he's definitely Noah's favourite. "He's right. The kid's got skills on the obstacle course, but put him in the field and he's as clumsy as they come."

Jules nods, taking a sip of her coffee. "So why keep him?"

A sigh, a rub to his bald head. "Well, he can negotiate better than anyone else from the recruitment trials. Besides, only seven more months and we get you back, right?" He grins, turns his attention down to Noah. "Right? In a couple months we get to have your mommy back, right?" The baby coos his approval, grinning as he tugs on the buttons of Sarge's shirt.

"Yeah, well, so long as Sam doesn't keep coming home all full of holes I'll be happy." Her own comment sends chills down her spine as she recalls the last call they were on together. The one that put a particularly large hole in him. The one that landed Sam in a hospital bed, then off work for the first 3 months of their son's life. She takes a minute, studies the man in front of her. There's got to be more to his discouraged demeanour than just a rookie. "So boss, what's going on?"

"I just told you…"

She shakes her head, expertly multitasking as she passes Noah a brightly coloured giraffe. "No, you told me what the plan was for shift today. I mean what's going on with _you_? You look tired."

"Hate to break it to you Jules, but that's what happens when you get old." He's not making eye contact. Avoiding the conversation. But the waitress is back to top up their coffees and she's taking the opportunity to glare at him in silence until they're alone again. "Marina wants to do the big family thanksgiving thing."

Well, that's a start. "Big family meaning…"

"Me, her, and Dean. Her sister will be in town, with her boyfriend and their kid."

"And this is a problem because…?"

"It's a big deal."

"Right. Because she's never met Dean before."

"Well, no, of course she's met Dean. Drives him to school all the time."

"Oh ok, so it's the sister. You don't like her."

"No, I've never met her. Know what? Can we just forget this conversation and drink our coffees in peace?"

"Sure." She's short with him. Getting tired of the self doubt. If he was able to get past her and Sam breaking the rules with so much _faith_, then he can sure as hell show a little in himself, in his own relationship. She shakes her head, takes a slowly fussing Noah from him. "You know Boss, if you aren't interested in Marina you should break it off. No use stringing her along."

He shakes his head, turns to face her. "I'm not-"

Eyes lock and she waits just a moment longer, intimidating him with her best cop-stare. Her brow rises, his furrows. She's caught him.

"Fine. I'll do the dinner."

Satisfied, she smiles and takes a sip of her own coffee as she bounces Noah in hopes of avoiding the tears that threaten.

"So what about you? Any Callaghans coming into town?"

She scoffs, nearly snorts, at the question. "Nope. Callaghans always do the holidays on the farm."

He nods, doesn't question why she didn't pressure Sam to get the time off to go. Doesn't question why she never has herself. "So what _are_ you doing?"

* * *

Midway through patrol Spike and Raf are busy discussing personal lives for lack of any _action_ on the streets.

Raf's head shakes rapidly in disbelief. "And Sam is still fine with you marrying his baby sister?"

"Sure. Of course he is. Why wouldn't he be?"

Eyebrows shift under Spike's scornful gaze. "No reason, really. It's just Sam kind of comes across as the protective type. I wouldn't think he'd be cool with anyone _dating_ his sister, never mind _marrying_."

Spike frowns, takes a minute to watch shops go by his window. "Well, he's ok with me. And he's had some time to adjust now. Why else would he have invited us to thanksgiving with him and Jules?"

"Oh?"

"Yep. Me, Nat, Sam and Jules, and Noah, of course. Thanksgiving Sunday. Would that be happening if he wasn't fine with Nat and I?"

Raf nods, thinks for a moment. "Well then, should be a nice little family dinner then. Just, you know, watch for poison laced pumpkin pies." He shoots Spike a smirk and lets out a laugh.

Spike gives a nervous laugh of his own. "Thanks for that. Know what? Maybe you should join us. You can taste everything before I do. Be like my guinea pig for the weekend."

He gives a small laugh, shakes his head. "No can do, buddy. I'm off to visit my Dad."

"Nice." Spike smiles, and the two drive another few minutes in silence, each thinking about the upcoming holiday.

"Take the next left. A few clubs down there, might find something worth looking into."

Spike nods, takes the advice but a few minutes later nothing is catching their eye. "Raf?"

"Yeah?"

"Sam couldn't make a pie if he tried. I bet its the wine I should look out for."

* * *

"You guys are going to the cottage, right?"

Ed nods, shrugs his shoulders. "Yep, just the four of us. Might need to drag Clark, kicking and screaming, but yeah, that's the plan."

"Not a fan of the cottage?"

Ed smirks. "A teenage boy, no tv or video games for an entire weekend. What do you think?"

Sam gives a laugh, shakes his head. "I get the cottage thing, but two kids and no tv… that's brave."

"That's what I told Soph."

"How'd she rope you into it?"

"Fishing." When Sam simply shakes his head some more Ed gives him an indignant glare. "What?"

"You're such an old man. Fishing? Really? No wonder Clark doesn't want to go. I've got to admit though, I would take immediate family only anywhere over extended family trapped in one house any day."

"That's what I tried to sell Clark on! I mean, he loves his grandparents, but every time they come to visit he has to give up his own bed to sleep on the pull-out in the living room. Figured he'd be happy to have a bed for the weekend. No such luck." He shakes his head, looks around and decides to take a right. "So what about you? What's the Braddock clan doing for the weekend?"

Sam shakes his head. "Mom and the General are out of town, so Jules and I are doing our own dinner here with Spike and Nat."

Ed's face is a look of complete shock as he turns to Sam. "You're cooking?"

"Ok, so Jules is doing the dinner."

"Wow." Ed states, shaking his head all the while.

"What?"

"Making Jules do all the work. Does she not do enough right now?"

"Well it was just going to be the three of us but Natalie got all clingy and Jules said she could come, and then of course she's bringing Spike because, well, his mom's in Italy and all that…"

"And Jules is ok with all this?"

Sam simply glares at Ed, sick of the line of questioning. "How about you worry about how you're going to survive that cottage of yours and I'll worry about Jules?"

Ed smirks but nods. "Sounds good. Food?" he asks, already pulling into a parking lot.

"Sounds good," Sam repeats, then smiles. "I'm sure you'll have fun at that cottage. I hear they're calling for thunderstorms."

Ed curses under his breath and pounds the steering wheel. He'd turn that anger at Sam had he not already hopped out of the truck. Could be an interesting holiday.


	2. Dinner Calls

**A/N: Yes, I am about to not-so-subtly mention in this chapter that it's October. This is because in Canada thats when we do the thanksgiving thing. Just, you know, for anyone who didn't know that/may celebrate another time. I personally think we could all just celebrate it monthly to avoid any confusion, but I'm not the Queen of the World. Man, I'd love that job…**

**Also, I got both ambitious and bored and decided to post this tonight, even though I'm wicked tired. As a result, my eyes are killing me and my head is pounding, and I still have to catch up on Criminal Minds from last night. (tough life, I know). What was my point? OH, spelling/grammar might take a hit here because I'm so tired. My apologies. **

**One more thing: Just saw a review on S&SM from _Lilyzinha. _Tried to send a PM but guess you've disabled that so I'll throw it here just in case you read this: I too will always call (in my head at least) Noah _Baby Braddock_. That or _Jam Baby_. Poor child.**

* * *

As predicted, Thanksgiving brings rain. Lots of rain. Drops pounding on the back porch catch her attention and she calls out to Sam to make sure the windows are closed. She's not big on a/c and at the beginning of October it's not nearly cold enough out to turn the heat on, so they've been enjoying the cool breeze constantly sweeping through the house. This of course means every damn window is now a risk for a puddle on the floor - or worse, the furniture - so Sam has to run through the house slamming them closed. It's the least he can do - she's the one making dinner.

"Got them all on time, just had to mop up a little bit in the upstairs washroom."

She doesn't look up from where she's chopping vegetables as she nods her acknowledgment. "Did you-"

"Yes, I hung up the towel when I was done."

"Good," she says with a smile. "Can you set the table?"

He groans, moves to stand behind her wrapping his arms around her waist. "I can…or..."

She drops the knife in the heap of carrots and turns to face him, shaking her head. "Listen, you roped me into making dinner. The least you can do is cooperate while I cook."

He gives an over exaggerated frown and picks up the pile of utensils from the counter behind her. "Ok," he reluctantly agrees, stopping to press a small kiss to her cheek. "Thank you for doing that, by the way."

"No problem." Truth be told she didn't need much convincing. She'd been so worried he'd try to drag her to the base for the weekend that when he said his parents were out of town she nearly squealed with glee. Sure, she'd long ago crossed the battle ground that was 'meeting the parents', but it left a bitter taste in her mouth that she wasn't overly interested in having as a part of Thanksgiving. Besides, she's been thinking that hosting thanksgiving might be a good tradition for when Noah gets older. "Spike texted a few minutes ago, they should be here soon. Natalie is bringing dessert."

"Oh good, so this is going to be our last meal." He grabs for a carrot to snack on, grins when he narrowly avoids her swinging hand.

"Be nice. And keep your hands out of dinner."

"But I'm hungry…" he gives his best boyish grin, to which she rolls her eyes and walks away. He snags an extra carrot and wanders out to the patio doors to check out the storm. "You know, had it not rained we could have barbecued. Could have even eaten outside."

"Sure, except that the backyard is a disaster." Well, not a complete disaster, mostly just covered in leaves because Sam's been stuck on some kind of endless overtime cycle so she's been full-time baby-duty and hasn't had time to rake.

He wonders if he can talk her into outside thanksgiving next year. Picnic tables and leaves, fall breeze and warm sun… paper dishes for easy cleanup.

"Can you bring me the recipe that's on the table?"

Shaken out of his hypothetical Thanksgiving plans he quickly examines the paper in question. "'Gammy Callaghan's cinnamon sweet potatoes.' Seriously? I'm not eating this."

"Know what? Go away," she rolls her eyes and grins as she lands a playful smack on the back of his head.

He's about to defend himself when the doorbell rings. "I'll get it," he smirks to himself as he leaves the room.

* * *

"Spike, what are you doing?" Sam smirks as he takes in the sight of Spike in an apron.

Spike shakes his head, turns around from the stove to look at his friend. "Nat said she'd kill me if I got my new pants dirty…" he sheepishly admits.

Natalie simply smirks from her place on one of the kitchen barstools.

Sam raises his eyebrow, opens his mouth to mock his friend when Jules cuts him off. "At least _he's_ being helpful."

"Hey, I tried to be helpful. You yelled." His voice is quiet, his tone more than a little condescending.

Jules shoots him a glare, her jaw clenching. "You tried to peel a carrot with a cheese grater!"

"I told you I was usin' my noggin, now shhhhh!" Sam insists, using Noah's presence as his shield against her verbal attack.

The two lock eyes, Jules rolling hers as she realizes how serious he really is. "Oh for the love of … you do know that you don't have to hold him 24/7, right?"

Sam shrugs, raises an eyebrow as he implicitly dares her to say that again. "I want to," he says simply, taking a seat at the counter next to Natalie.

Natalie rolls her eyes, but convinces Sam to pass her nephew to her. "What are we going to do while we wait for dinner?"

Spike immediately perks up from where he's resumed stirring something on the stove. "When I was a kid we always used to go around the table and say what we were thankful for. That's kind of fun, isn't it?"

Natalie's eyes widen, her excitement barely contained in spite of the sleeping baby in her arms. Her voice comes out as a poorly hushed whisper. "Oh! That's so cute! I love it!"

Tilting her head in confusion, Jules questions both Natalie and Sam. "You guys never did that?"

There's a half huff and Natalie shoos away an invisible fly with her free hand. "We weren't even allowed to talk at the dinner table."

At the shocked expression on Spike's and Jules' faces Sam nods along in support of his sister's statement. "Or lunch. Or breakfast. The General used to line the centre of the table with cereal boxes so we couldn't even see each other."

"Wow that's… seems a little…" Spike struggles to find the right adjective to describe his future father-in-law.

Sam simply nods some more. "That's the General."

The awkwardness of the conversation settles in, and Spike decides to take the lead and move the conversation along. "We brought wine," he smiles, producing a bottle from one of the bags he and Natalie arrived with.

"Nice timing," Natalie smirks.

"I thought so," Spike nods with a grin, moving to the other side of the room to put it on the table.

Sam decides it's about time Noah finds a more suitable napping place, and takes him from Natalie to the basinet in the next room. Coming back into the kitchen, he only manages to catch the tail end of one of Spike's jokes before the phone rings. Jules takes a deep breath to steady herself mid-laugh, and answers it.

"Hello?… Oh hey Mrs. Braddock… yeah, Sam's right here…" Her face is more than a little disconcerting as she hands Sam the phone, who scrunches his face in question.

"Mom? How's - wait, what? Mom…"

There's an odd silence that fills the room as Sam simply listens on the phone. He mumbles to himself, gesturing for a piece of paper and pen which Jules quickly provides. Scribbling down a few details he sighs, runs his hand through his hair. "Yeah… got it. Ok, call when you know something? Yeah… you too…" He scrunches his face weird, pales a little and nearly misses the phone's cradle as he sets it down, his eyes too focused on his sister. He looks more confused than upset, though something about the phone call tells the rest of the room there's more going on than his face is conveying.

Natalie stares right back at him, more like through him. Fearlessly seeking answers. "Sammy, what's going on?"

Expressive lines put there by confusion disappear from his face and a mask takes over, smoothing out into his stone cold sniper face because really, what else can he do? "That was Mom. She thinks The General had some kind of stroke."

Eyebrows shoot towards the ceiling as heads tilt, willing their ears to tell them they've heard wrong. From their positions on opposite sides of the kitchen both Spike and Jules exchange wide-eyed glances, each desperately hoping the other has some clue as to what to do with the situation.

"What? What do you mean? Is he ok?"

Noah begins to fuss from his position in the next room and Sam turns to go to him.

"Sam?" Natalie's usually patient tone is gone, now bordering on annoyance at her brother's lack of response to her question. "Is he ok?"

Sam stops before managing any steps away, turns to face his sister. "They're not sure yet. He just started acting weird at the dinner table and they called 911. Mom's pretty sure it was a stroke but they're still waiting to hear." With that he's off, gone to the living room where he picks up his son, bouncing him gently and asking what's wrong.

Natalie hasn't moved. Just sits on her perch at the counter, mouth moving but no words escaping.

Spike bows his head, pushing himself away from the wall he'd previously used as a leaning post. Moves to Natalie's side, though he too is at a loss for words.

Upon recovering from a brief period of shock, Jules notes the hospital information Sam had jotted down before joining Sam in the living room. He's swaying back and forth holding Noah. He doesn't look at her, just focuses on some random object while making shushing noises. She settles into a chair near the entrance to the room, essentially trapping him there without giving the feeling of actual entrapment, stares him down in hopes that he'll say something, anything, about what just happened.

He doesn't look at her, doesn't initiate any form of communication aside from a quick shush gesture. Jules takes a moment, assesses the situation. Speak too soon, and he'll shut down. Speak too loud, and Noah will have a further meltdown than just the troubled sleep Sam seems to be getting him through. Don't speak, and risk isolation.

"Sam?" Nothing. She's going to have to lead the conversation. Maybe just yes or no questions so she can get information without him having to respond in full sentences - he's likely in shock. Yeah, seems like a smart plan. At the very least she can gage his non-reactions to figure out where to go next. "We should probably go to the-"

"Why?"

Her brow furrows, jaw locks, confusion clear. "Why? Sam, your father is in the hospital we should- "

"Would he?"

"Excuse me? Sam, that's not… You can't just…"

Sam gives a half shrug as he sets Noah back down. "Won't make a difference if we're there or not. Besides, it's not like he came running when it was me. Just leave it alone."

She takes a deep breath, steadies the low-level rage that threatens to rise within her. "That's not how it works Sam and you know it."

He simply rolls his eyes in response, moving towards the doorway. "Jules, seriously, just leave it."

She tracks his movements, trying to reign in her own frustration. It would be so much easier if he would just talk to her. If he would agree to make the drive out of town to see his father. If he would yell or cry or vent. If he would give her something to go on other than the ugly caveman style anti-emotional crap he's currently spewing. She's flat out annoyed now. Can't believe what's happening. Considers yelling at him - words like _cold_ and _petty_ swirl through her thoughts - before she decides that's not the best route to take. It comes out louder, and more anger ridden, than she plans. "You can't be serious!"

In the next room, Spike takes the initiative to turn off the burners on the stove. Dinner is effectively ruined.


	3. The Mourning

**A/N: First of all, thank you to everyone who has been reading/reviewing/favouriting...all the stuffs. Glad you're enjoying this...  
While I had quite a bit of fun with the last two chapters (probably a little too much at times), this one I didn't like. There's more Spike/Natalie in this chapter for anyone that's interested, and for anyone that's not it's fairly isolated so feel free to skip that section. I do however promise that any Spike/Nat stuff will come back to Jam/Jam issues/Jam related escapades. Sadly that won't be for a while yet, so for now you have to deal with this chapter.  
In case anyone hasn't noticed, I don't do serious well. Actually, I feel I do so rather awkwardly. Hence why some parts of this may be...inappropriately amusing. I kept being all "...and then Sam took off his shirt! No wait... that doesn't fit here..." So. Now that I've lowered your expectations and made you uber excited for this chapter, I'll stop this note and let you read.  
One last thing: Fun Fact - as I write this note I still have no idea what I'm titling this chapter. It's the benefit you all get for being in 'the future.' (_Yes, Yes it is past my bedtime, how did you know?_)**

* * *

There's no point in making the trip to the hospital. It's too far away. Plus, the second phone call comes within minutes of the first. Instead, cars are packed and the Braddock children, along with their chosen families, make the drive out to the base. They meet Mrs. Braddock, or a shell of what may have once been, as she arrives off the plane to escort her to her increasingly empty home.

Childhood bedrooms, frozen in another time, are scandalized by their sudden occupancy. A twin sized white washed canopy bed, still clad in it's perfectly pink bedspread and frilly pillows, is pushed across the room. It now joins itself with a cushioned window seat - a temporary solution to an issue of too few beds. Questioning eyebrows are wiggled at 80s pop-stars on the walls, ones that stare back with improperly buttoned shirts and too much hair, in an attempt to lighten the mood. They're answered by a small smirk, and a fading interest in the surroundings. Across the hall an air mattress is inflated, blanketed, and situated next to yet another twin sized bed. A small crib, newly freed of cobwebs from nearly 30 years of basement storage, is neatly tucked in the corner of the room. Sure, a hotel might have made for better accommodations, but this trip wasn't budgeted for, nor is about comfort.

Entering the room, Sam checks on a sleeping Noah in the crib, sighing as he takes in their accommodations. "Well, this certainly isn't ideal."

Eyes are rolled as Jules finishes distributing pillows between the bed and the air mattress. "I'm not sure any of this is supposed to be _ideal_." She gives a sympathetic smile. "How's your Mom?"

He sighs, takes another look around the room. "She fell asleep on the couch. I left her there. She seems pretty comfortable, just tired. I think the plane ride about killed her." Hearing his own words he cringes inwardly.

Jules' expression matches his at the words and seems to be take the opportunity to change the subject. "So, you want the bed or the floor?"

"You're joking."

"Figured I'd ask," she smirks, and lowers herself onto the air mattress, rearranging the pillows to her liking.

"What are you- Jules, take the damn bed."

She grins and pauses a moment in silent protest, before moving to the bed. She watches as Sam finds his place on the air mattress before shutting off the bedside lamp. As the light fades from the room so does the lighthearted nature of previous conversation, and consequently their moods. Sam's unusually quiet, somewhat pensive, as he focuses on some dark corner of the room. After waiting a moment, Jules lets out a sigh. "You ready for tomorrow?"

There's a slight ruffling of blankets, understood to be the result of a shrug, and Sam lets out a sigh of his own in response.

* * *

It's the same place. The same one. The same damn cemetery. The same damn cemetery where twenty-some-odd years ago she was buried, left to lie marked by a stone surrounded in teddy bears and flowers, dolls and beaded necklaces. It's all been collected by now, making the site a whole lot more miserable looking. As if that was even possible. Conveniently, the plot next to hers is open. Was open. Now it belongs to him. The General. The title makes it's way onto his headstone, and now he has it forever.

It's a gorgeous day outside - disturbingly so - warm sun and cool breeze, newly fallen leaves floating between headstones. Passing her grave, Sam pauses a moment, takes a deep breath. Hasn't said a word since they left the house - not to his Mom, not to Natalie, and not to Jules. Finding his place in the crowd that's gathered he seems to get a little clingy, finally breaks his silence. "Here," is all he says as he takes Noah from Jules. He's not a happy baby today - must have picked up on what's going on - because he didn't sleep last night. Not well at least. Jules was up with him most of the night out of habit, which made him grateful that he made her sleep on the bed. The air mattress would not have served her well - halfway through the night it deflated and so he basically slept on the floor. He's done it before in that room, on nights when he'd stumble home after a few too many beers downed in secret behind a friend's garage and couldn't be bothered to climb into bed, but the alcohol definitely softened the hardwood.

So now he stands, son in his arms, caught somewhere between his baby sister's grave, his father's casket, and a nightmare. He thinks about Noah, about how he would have loved his aunt had he the opportunity to meet her. Sure, he loves Natalie - can't help but yank on her long hair and giggle maniacally - but he would have loved her too. It's the reason they're there and yet he doesn't really venture into how the death of The General will affect Noah. Sure, when the Braddock grandparents did make their way out to Toronto to visit their first born grandchild The General did do the polite thing and hold Noah - as if he were a bomb about to explode - for the appropriate amount of time before handing him back to his wife, but he never really jumped into the role of Papa Braddock. Like how he never really excelled at the fatherly stuff either. At least, not as far as Sam could tell.

Next to him is Jules. She's got her arm around his Mom, who shakes violently from time to time, trying to steady her own breathing. On the other side of her is Natalie, who's somewhat disconnected from her surroundings. Another one who's been quiet all day. She stares mindlessly at one of the flower arrangements, likely only catching snippets of the words being spoken around her, as Spike stands with a tentative arm around her shoulders.

The service is hitting it's peak, just reaching the part where things get personal, individualized to the deceased, when Noah's grumpy attitude turns to full out wailing. Jules immediately turns to Sam, reaching for the infant so that she can take him away, so as not to interrupt. Instead, Sam shrugs her off, takes him himself. He wanders down a path between stones, only returning when he sees the crowd part.

Jules doesn't say a word about his absence. Just like how she barely fought him on it when he decided to walk away with the baby. Instead she gives a half smile at the now sleeping Noah and hikes the collar of her jacket up as she shivers from a cool breeze. "We should get going. I promised your Mom that Spike and I would look after things back at the house."

Evidently The General had a lot of friends in high places because the gathering is catered, free of charge, so all Spike and Jules really have to do is make sure they clean up before they go. That, and make sure that none of the remaining Braddocks have any kind of meltdown. With Noah asleep upstairs, Sam holds onto the monitor, desperately praying for something to pull him away from the crowd. His Aunt Marlie has been into the wine already, so she keeps wandering by, ranting to Sam about the poor cracker to cheese ratio and asking him when he's going to make the trip out to P.E.I. to visit. You'd never know her only brother just died. There's a reason he avoids that side of the family like the plague.

Most of the base makes an appearance, marching in in shifts to do the _honourable_ thing and offer their condolences. Those should have come long ago, around the time that the military actually took him away from his family. It's all so rehearsed, the words, the actions, and Jules can see the way her mother in law's composure is wavering. She tosses a quick glance at Sam, relaxing as she sees him talking to Spike. It's all the comfort she needs to be sure that he won't need her for the next few minutes. In a performance that she's pretty sure could earn her an Oscar, she interrupts a young soldier as he tows the company line about a man he likely never met. "I'm so sorry but I could really use a hand with the baby, I'm just not sure how to…"

"It's ok dear. Excuse me gentlemen, my grandson needs me." She gives the subtlest of smiles to Jules who replies with a nearly imperceptible nod as she leads the way to the stairs. On the second floor she whispers a small thank you before slumping down in the chair in Sam's room.

"Do you need… umm, can I get you anything?"

The older woman sighs, runs her hands over her face. "No. But thank you for getting me out of there. It was just getting to be a little…"

Jules nods, looks around the room. "I should go check on," Sam? Natalie? The caterers? She's done the funeral thing before, knows what its about, but she can't seem to find her place at this one. "Downstairs." Downstairs? Yeah… in case it's disappeared.

"If you see a cup of tea floating around down there…"

"I'll bring it up."

* * *

Spike ends a stretch by resting his feet on the edge of the footboard, in a bed not meant for two. With a quick groan he repositions his legs to the left, then the right, finally settling them half dangling off the bed.

"Can you please stop moving?"

"Sorry." He calms his movements and rotates - yet again - this time to gain a better view of his fiancé. "You ok?"

"Neck hurts."

He nods. "This bed is small."

She makes a half groan in agreement. "I'm worried about Sam."

He simply nods, unsure of what to say to that.

"He's been really quiet. I mean, I wasn't expecting she eloquent speech or anything, but I haven't heard a peep from him since we got here."

Spike sighs. He gets it. Sort of. He supposes he can relate, to some extent. He gets the rocky father-son relationship thing. Gets the death thing. At least when his father died it wasn't sudden and he could at least be there for him when it happened. Sam on the other hand, well, he went from no word from his father in over a month due to a quick, predictable dinner table fallout to attending his funeral.

"...I mean really, come on Sam, put down the damn crackers and show some emotion."

He smirks lightly. He's not sure what the rest of the rant entailed, but he's pretty sure he regrets tuning out. "Yeah. Yeah, it's weird."

Natalie gives a half smile, rolling over to face away from him.

It's odd. He's pretty sure he didn't do anything to piss her off this time - there were no jelly beans in this bed so that can't be it - "You alright?"

"Yeah," she sighs, nods against her pillow. "Tired."

He nods, stretches out once more - as much as he can in a twin sized bed shared with another person - and settles down for the night. It's weird being around another family like this. Weird being around the Braddock family like this. He hadn't expected the complete shift in behaviour from those that remain. Should have, but didn't. He didn't expect Mrs. Braddock to be all hugs and awkward pauses, swooning at his every movement because he's not an ass and felt compelled to help out. He didn't expect Sam to go silent and float around in overprotective-smother-Noah mode instead of dealing with the outside world. He didn't expect Jules to become some Stepford daughter-in-law, though, he supposes, she was just doing the same thing he was. Trying to be there for everyone without being in their way. And Natalie, well. What changed with Natalie? Pausing for a moment he glances over, studying the back of the head next to him. With a frown he rolls over again, tossing an arm around her. He's pretty sure she's never cried herself to sleep before.

* * *

"How's that mattress treating you?"

Sam lets out what he hopes is a silent groan, shifting on the spot to relieve the pain growing in his spine. "Fantastic."

With a smirk Jules sits up in bed, peering over the edge and down at Sam. "You look different from this angle."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm used to always looking up at you."

"Cute."

"Come up here." When he responds with a look of confusion she rolls her eyes. "Not for that. We're not doing that in your mother's house. Come up here to sleep."

"There's no way we can both sleep up there. Not well at least."

"Sam, lets break it down here. We've got about 2 more hours before one of us has to be up with Noah, you're sleeping on a hardwood floor and I'm up here shivering. This is stupid. Come up here."

He actually smiles at her logic and gives in, squeezing into bed beside her. There's a few minutes of shifting before they're both comfortable, yawning as the day catches up with them all at once.

"Spike and I were thinking we'd leave after lunch tomorrow. That gives us some more time to visit with your mom and still get home before dinner. Plus, then Noah's nap will fit into the driving time perfectly."

Sam nods, waits a moment. "I was thinking I might stay here a while."

Jules pauses, tries not to let the shock of the statement come out in her voice. "Oh?" She waits, mulls it over a little. "Um, I don't think Noah and I can swing too much longer, really only packed the essentials."

He sighs. He's not big on the idea of not returning home with his wife and son, but he's got a feeling he might be needed elsewhere. "I know, it's just… Mom's got a lot of stuff to sort through with the house and everything. I think she could use a hand."

Jules nods, considers what he's saying. "I thought you said everything was sorted out in the will."

"It was…is… but there's all this legal junk she has to sift through and she's just such a mess right now, I just don't think that-"

"Relax." She can hear the panic in his voice, the way that he's getting defensive as if he's afraid she's about to get mad at him. "I get it. It was just a question."

He takes a deep breath, nods against her back as he pulls her closer to him. "I called Sarge today. He switched some shifts around, put me down for a few sick days, and the team is still off next weekend… gets me a little over a week off." The back of Jules' head indicates a small nod, but she remains silent, making him wonder if she's even awake. "Jules?"

"Yeah."

"You're quiet."

_So are you._ "Just promise when you come home you'll actually talk about it? I'm not asking for anything huge just… you can't just wallow silently."

"I am not wallowing."

"I didn't mean that you were. Just, you know, I'm here."

* * *

After a hectic morning of phone call juggling and baby vomit, Sam chats Noah up while Jules helps Spike get the remainder of the bags into the car. "So now you be a good boy for Mommy. Go to bed when she asks, and don't go bringing any girls home from the park because I don't think Mommy is quite ready for that."

Jules wanders over, one eyebrow reaching towards the sky. "You do realize all he does at the park is stare at passing birds? I don't think we need to worry about girls yet."

Sam smirks, letting his expression fade as he realizes this means the car is ready to leave. "It's just eight days, then I'll stay home for a day before I have to go back to work."

"I know," she nods, fixing Noah's jacket.

"Ok. Call me when you guys get home?"

"Of course." There's an awkward silence, some shifting of feet among the leaves that litter the driveway. Jules rises up on her tip-toes and presses a kiss to his cheek, resting her hand in his as she sighs. "This is so silly. It's eight days. And its not like you'll be in another country, its only a 4 hour drive for crying out loud."

He nods, gives the same half-smile she's giving him. "I'll call everyday. A lot."

She smiles, thinks to herself. "Do you think you could-"

He nods, smiles. "I'll text first so you can turn off the ringer if it's nap time."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

Natalie has set up camp, glued to Spike's arm as she says goodbye. Sibling rivalry doesn't go away with age, as is evident by how quickly Natalie decided to stay behind after hearing that Sam would be.

Smirking at the sight, Jules rolls her eyes. "Spike, lets go! You do not want to hit traffic with a post-nap baby in the car!"

* * *

**A/N: Sorry about the super lame title. The alternate (and probably more entertaining) title comes from Tirsh: "F^&*$&% IT I'm going to bed!"**


	4. Midnight Caller

**A/N: Well now. Long wait for a short-ish chapter. Sorry about that. As always, thanks to everyone who has been reading/reviewing/favouriting... all that jazz. Glad you all want to hug wollowy-non dealing Sam. I want to do other things, but I would settle for a hug if that's all he's available for. And that's about all I've got for my usually ranting A/N. I must be tired. Gotta go try to get something done on the next chapter.**

* * *

These days, if it's not a double double, Noah's cry from the next room, or various words or actions from Sam, she's barely conscious upon waking up. Knocks on the door in the middle of the night are none of the above, making her less than top speed as she staggers out of bed and into the hallway. Somehow, through the fall rain that's busy beating the outside of the house, the knocks were enough to wake her. Ever the mother, she stops to make a quick check on Noah before closing his door behind her. There's no reason the rapping on the door should wake him up, and thankfully, or oddly, whoever is at the door hasn't rung the bell. With the nursery secured, she makes a half glance at Sam's nightstand. With little more thought to her actions she's on her way down the hall, trying to sober her own movements before taking on the stairs. Why the hell is someone at her door? What time is it? She fell asleep unusually early tonight - was up too late talking to Sam last night - so her best estimate of time is somewhere between 11pm and 5am. No, wait, Noah hasn't woken her up yet. Must be before 3.

Just before reaching the door she takes a deep breath, straightens out the stiffness in her joints in an effort to wake herself up. The knocking persists and she lets out a groan before pushing aside the curtain on the window to gain a better view of her front porch.

"What the-?"

* * *

**earlier...**

It's weird for her: being in the house without him. She hasn't spent a night without him since he came home from the hospital. She's perfectly fine with it; not at all afraid. She's a cop - SRU. Even with her not quite re-qualification worthy but pretty damn strong post-baby body she knows she can take on any fool that dare wander into _her_ house, and threaten _her_ family.

It's the loneliness that bothers her. She's used to a part of it, the part that falls in Sam's normally scheduled on shift time when she's resorted to British soap operas and colourful children's books for entertainment, but after that she's a little lost. Feeds Noah before sitting at an empty table to eat her own meal. She's moved all the pillows from the guest room onto she and Sam's bed just so it doesn't feel so empty.

Thankfully, she doesn't have long for the lonely to set in. Sam must be missing them, because he calls constantly. At this point they speak more than they would if he were home. Sure, not being on shift most of the day helps. She wakes up to a text from him asking if it's ok to call, or if she can call him. She keeps him on speaker phone while she gets Noah up and ready for the day, and lets him talk her ear off while she gets Noah settled in his stroller so she can take him for a jog. They talk again at lunchtime, when she has to all but hang up on him so she can get Noah down for his nap. And again at dinner, then after Noah gets to bed.

They don't talk about much of anything, really. He tells her about the lawyers, the military formalities. He tells her about how he helped his mom clean out the basement because she was 'tired of looking at the crap', A.K.A. in need of a distraction, and managed to find all of his legos. He's bringing them home to store in their basement until Noah is old enough to play with them. She's pretty sure he means so that he can play with them, but she hasn't said that to him. Much.

* * *

In his mother's house he sinks into a routine. A depressing, lonely routine composed of official business and family nonsense. He tolerates the family members who stop by on their way out of the town to once again give their regards. He nods, says thank you. He takes over for his Mom when a military officer stops by the house to inquire as to whether they will be emptying his father's office themselves or if they would like his effects sent over to the house. He rides along with Natalie when she goes by the base to empty their father's desk and bookshelves. They clear the walls of his framed documents and photographs from official events. He accepts quick nods from former comrades when he passes them outside the mess hall on his way back to the car. Most of them attended the funeral and have already said their peace - the rest stay quiet because they know how things were between the two Braddocks and opt not to get into it out of respect. He helps his Mom with dinner, actually manages to teach her a thing or two thanks to what he's picked up living with Jules.

Through it all he looks for openings, natural breaks in the day when he can pick up the phone and call home. And when the breaks don't float by, he creates them. Goes for a drive to the store to pick up a few things for dinner and talks on the phone the whole time. He sits on the front steps at night, chatting away with Jules until it gets too cold and he has to go inside. Then he moves inside to the kitchen, where he can still talk on the phone without disturbing anyone else in the house. He checks his email every half hour in hopes that Jules will have sent him new pictures of Noah, and she always does. While it makes him feel better to see his small smile, his open mouthed giggle, it doesn't help the guilt. After the smile that comes from seeing the latest picture comes the guilt of being away, and he immediately feels the need to call Jules. He loves his Mom, knows he did the right thing staying with her for a few days, but he's counting down the hours until he goes home.**  
**

* * *

"Sam?"

"What?" he groans. He clenches his eyes shut, hoping if he ignores her she'll go away.

"Good, you're awake."

How it is that Natalie is so awake in the middle of the night he'll never know. "Am now. What's wrong?"

"I don't know." She shrugs as if she didn't just wander into his room, in the middle of the night, to wake him up. Slumping down in the chair by the now empty crib she sighs, trails her nails along the bars.

"Ok, well…wake me up when you do." Closing his eyes he once again hopes she'll go away. He's not interested in a midnight chat.

"I think I'm angry." Guess she doesn't care what he is or isn't interested in.

Sighing, he sits up to face his sister. "About?"

"About Dad," she states simply, irritation evident in her voice. "At Dad," she corrects.

Sam sighs. "Well, he has that affect on people…"

Natalie glares at him, her face cringing in annoyance. "Not like that, Sam. I'm angry at him for dying." When he doesn't respond she rolls her eyes and continues. "Did I tell you I convinced him to come see where I work? Well, he was going to come out for a visit next time he was on leave. I was going to show him my office, because thats the kind of thing he cared about."

He smirks, nearly snorts, at her statement. "Yeah, he was all about designer clothes."

Her jaw clenches as she glares at him, sure that if he were anyone else she'd use some of the self defence techniques he taught her on his face. "Not like that, Sam, I mean offices, titles, careers. I was going to show him how I'm important there. How my years travelling gave me _experience_, made me an _asset_ in the industry and not some aimless floozy like he seemed to think."

"Well…" He pauses, tries to think of the right thing to say to that. "At least he got to see the car you bought with the money from that _career_."

She rolls her eyes, lets a small grin escape at the thought of the first vehicle she's ever owned. "I guess. On top of that though now he's going to miss my wedding." She frowns, looks away from him, and he can tell their conversation has taken a more painful turn for her.

With a quick nod he looks around the room before turning back to her. "I think I saw a pie in the freezer downstairs…"

Natalie turns back to him, eyes glossy but mouth forging a smile. "What are you, 8?"

"No. When I was 8 I would have shared." He smirks quickly before leaving the room, Natalie close behind him.

* * *

**...**

_The knocking persists and she lets out a groan before pushing aside the curtain on the window to gain a better view of her front porch._

_"What the-?" _She cuts herself off, pausing barely long enough to pick her jaw off the floor before swinging the door open. "What are you doing?"

Smiling, he shakes a few misplaced raindrops from his forehead before tugging her into a crushing hug.

She returns the hug and the smile, shaking her head. "What are you doing here?"

"Planted seeds in Nat's brain… she begged me to leave early," he grins some more, adds in a wink. "Oh, and I couldn't wait til the morning."

She lets out an uncharacteristic giggle and tugs at his jacket. "Sam, you're soaked…" she frowns, helping him out of it.

His eyes go wide as if he's forgotten the ten minutes he just spent on his front porch knocking in the rain and assists her in removing the coat. Raising a questioning eyebrow he takes in her appearance. "You planning on using that?"

"What?" Her brow furrows and she follows his gaze. "Oh. I. So maybe I. Who shows up in the middle of the night, knocking incessantly anyway?"

"Spike used to." He smirks, takes the gun from her and unloads it. "Good thing I didn't go for the stealth entry."

She rolls her eyes as she hangs up his coat. "Yes, yes, Jules panicked ha - ha. Come to bed with me?"

"Absolutely." He smiles, stops her as she moves past him to lead the way upstairs to crush her in yet another embrace.

She blinks quickly in confusion, but doesn't fight him on it. She just stands there with him, in a puddle by their front door. "Sam?"

"I really missed you two."


	5. Deflection

**A/N: This chapter was a pain in my ass. It's codename: "The One with All the Bitter Dialogue". Seriously, for a while there when I was writing it all I could think was _these two need to shut up_, but I couldn't get it out without all the talking, so there's a fair chunk of that. I don't remember what else I was going to say here, except that I feel like it's exceedingly long, even though it did manage to stay below the 3000 word mark, which is sort of my maximum. And now I'll just shut up and post before Trish kills me. And _Sules_._ Sules_ fought back to a HTB update request today with a CS update request. Well, I've done my part, now you do yours. OH, and _Eals_ needs to update Glasgow. And where the heck is Gravity, Two by One, Moving Mountains? _Playergurl89_ has been hiding. Look at me... judging people for not updating for long periods of time... Pot, meet Kettle.**

* * *

Fall disappears within the first week of November as Toronto disappears under a thick mess of fluffy snow. The plows go by before the sun comes out, flashing lights threatening to wake sleeping babies as piles of snirt are built along sidewalks. Thanks to the snow, alarm clocks are reset to a half hour earlier to allow for the extra travel time. And the time spent in the driveway shovelling and digging out the cars. Other than the extra work, Sam's morning routine is essentially the same. Wake up, check on Noah, shower, give Jules unnecessary assistance with Noah's breakfast while he avoids her glares. Its been two weeks since he returned from his mother's house and they still haven't talked about it. She's asked a few times how he's doing, if he's dealing, what he's thinking, but he's never responded. At least not with an answer. He pulled the 'going to be late for work', the 'can we talk about this later?', and the 'I'm fine', several times before he lost his cool and turned it on her. _Leave it alone, Jules. Don't worry about it. Don't you have anything better to do?_ Now that he's made it clear he'll pick a fight from anything, she's stopped asking. Simply glares at him instead, profiles him while they speak about anything else.

His evening routine also remains the same. Kicks off boots, but actually puts them away because he's avoiding a confrontation with Jules at all costs. Flips through the pile of mail Jules leaves on the same corner of the counter in hopes of something more interesting than a phone bill. Doesn't question the hand addressed envelope with the Alberta return address deliberately shoved to the bottom of the pile, though not discarded. He's holding back the nagging for fear it will only turn around on him.

Jules watches as he moves through the days in his perfected routine, as if that thing that happened a month ago didn't happen. Or as if it doesn't bother him, which she's sure it does. Not because he's said so, but because he avoids the topic. He won't let her approach the topic, likely for fear of picking at a scab. She can't relate, not really. Sure, she gets the lost parent thing, but even if the circumstances of her relationship with her mother were comparable to that of Sam and his father she wouldn't try to relate. She knows the last thing he wants to hear is 'I get it'. It was the last thing she wanted to hear.

So she leaves it, gives him some more time. Lets him talk her into a late dinner in favour of playing in the snow. Two grown adults and their baby who has barely mastered sitting up, playing in the snow. They put so much clothes on the poor boy that he can barely move, and head out onto the deck in the backyard. Sam claims it's why he hasn't shovelled it yet, and builds the world's smallest snowman. Taking a break from studying falling flakes, Noah gets excited, kicks it over, and proceeds to laugh at the slightly dejected look on his father's face.

Winter fun is short lived as Noah seems to lose interest in the snow. Sam removes the many layers they've wrapped him in while Jules tries to figure out the dinner menu. With a shrug she gives in to Sam's request, and starts making grilled cheese. Setting the first sandwich on the pan, she sighs and turns to face Sam. "Your Mom called today."

He doesn't look up from where he and Noah have discovered a few toys on the living room floor. "Oh?"

"Yep. Wants to know what our plans are for Christmas."

"Why? It's over a month away."

"Well I'm guessing she's just looking for something to look forward to. It'll be her first Christmas without your Dad and…" she trails off, tries to figure out where to go with this.

Sam rolls his shoulders, focuses on some brightly coloured blocks. "What did you tell her?"

She rolls her eyes at his lack of interest in the conversation. "I told her we weren't celebrating Christmas this year."

His head shoots up so he can face her, his expression similar to that of a child who was just told that, well, that Christmas was cancelled. "What do you mean _no Christmas_?"

She can't fight off the smile that comes with the shocked tone of his voice. "Sam, I was joking."

He pauses, replays her earlier comment and mentally face palms at the realization that he missed the sarcastic inflection in her voice. "Oh."

"Anyway, she wants to do dinner with us. Along with Nat and Spike of course."

"So she's coming here? I guess that means we should finish that guest room, eh?" He smirks to himself, proud that he brought that particular task up before Jules got the chance to nag.

"Actually, I was thinking we'd go to her place for a few days."

"Excuse me?" He doesn't get it. Doesn't see why he should be forced to drive all the way to his Mom's to spend the holiday cooped up in his childhood bedroom with both his wife and child. "Why can't we do that here? I don't see why we should go all the way there, we have more room."

She sighs, watches his face twitch as he continues to protest. "Sam, it's her first major holiday without your Dad. She wants to have a house full of family for Christmas, _her house_, I think the least we can do is drive up for a couple days."

He can't believe how quickly she's resorted to strong-arming him into doing this. Can't believe that for Noah's first Christmas they're going to drag him to the base to sleep in a questionable near-antique crib instead of having it in their own home. He actually rolls his eyes. "4 hours driving in the snow with a baby. Ok Jules, that sounds like a great plan. We should volunteer to bring the tree - just strap it on top of the SUV."

She huffs, rolling her eyes in return. "Ok, I think I've been pretty understanding here Sam while you just sit around and refuse to deal. But the least you can do is do this for your mother. She's family, it's what family does, so just…" She pauses, tries and fails to fight back the urge to say it. "Suck it up."

"Suck it- Oh wow." He scoops his jaw off the floor before doing the same with Noah, settling him into a bouncing chair so that he can move to the kitchen. "_Suck it up_, Jules? _It's what family does_, Jules? This from the girl who hasn't spoken to her father in... what's it been now? Six? Seven years?"

She can't believe he's gone there. Shoots him a lethal glare. "That's not the same, Sam, and you know it. Stop trying to put this on me, you're the one who's avoiding the topic of your father, refusing to deal with the fact that he _died_."

"Yeah, well, at least when my father was alive I spoke to him. Ok, argued with him, but at least I didn't avoid him like you do yours!"

"Avoid? Sam, I'm not avoiding anything you're the one who-"

"Not avoiding?" He's across the room at light speed, shuffling through the pile of mail to the envelope in question, tearing it open to read aloud. "_Dear Julianna…_ oh, here it is: _We would love to have you at Christmas this year_. You get a letter _every_ year, and you _never_ go. You don't even reply. Does he even know you got married? Hell, does he even know that Noah exists?"

"You can't be serious. You're really going to go there?" She locks her jaw, quickly turns off the stove before she gets distracted and burns their dinner.

He nods, gives a conceited smirk. "Oh, you bet I'm going to go there. Because until you're willing to go _there_, you have no place telling me how to deal with my family if you won't even-"

She huffs, rolls her eyes and snarls at him, "What would you have me do, Sam? Just pack up and road trip it out to the 'hat for some Callaghan family reunion just so that you'll start dealing with the fact that _your_ father _died_?"

"Yes."

Her brow twitches, the arch in her frown increasing. "Excuse me? You want to drive out to Alberta? How the hell would that even work? Stop being ridiculous."

Crossing the space between them he stops just short of a foot in front of her, gesturing frantically as he perfects his condescending tone. "Well, Jules, there are these big metal things called planes and I'm willing to bet they even go to Alberta at Christmastime. If we're going to go out of our way to go to my mom's then we might as well visit the farm too!"

Eyes lock. Death glares. Indignant, daring, taunting glares.

"You'd never get the time off-"

"The team has vacation time left over, needs to be used by the end of the year, so we swung ourselves a little Christmas vacation." He smirks some more, obviously pleased with himself.

"Plane tickets are expensive…"

"That's what savings are for." He watches as she chews her lip in contemplation, quickly locating and retrieving her cell phone off the counter. "Call and tell him we're coming."

She bites back a pout, determined not to let on how much his challenge is bothering her as she shuffles through the contacts on her phone.

"That phone won't dial itself, Jules."

"I don't have his number. I have to text my brother, alright?"

He nods, continues to glare as he peers down at her fidgeting hands. He grins as the phone beeps indicating a reply. "I think thats-"

"Yes thank you." She scowls, dials the number. Raising the phone to her ear she shoots him a scornful look. "Just so you know, the second we get back you're talking about it- Oh, uh, Hello? Dad?" She waves him off leaving the room.

He smirks to himself - he's won, for now - and moves Noah into the kitchen so that he can keep an eye on him while he picks up where Jules left off making dinner. He hears the conversation winding down and takes his cue to move dinner from the oven to the table.

* * *

Dinner is tense, to say the least. The earlier disagreement is left in the past as they both pretend nothing happened. They don't discuss their holiday plans over sandwiches - instead, Jules fills Sam in on her plans to give in and let him buy a treadmill for the house. As it turns out, running in the snow is that much more inconvenient with a baby, and she's getting to the point where it's not worth the hassle. He grins, but before he can imply an _I told you so_ she reminds him he'll still be watching Noah on weekend mornings while she goes for 'real' runs. He gladly agrees - the more time for cartoons with his boy the better - and even suggests she add in a trip to the range on those days so she can stay sharp while she's off work. In the lulls between smirks and teasing remarks, he studies her. He's not sure what exactly he's gotten them into with this trip to Alberta, but he's quickly noticing she's changed. Her mood has shifted. Could this be what Jules is like when she's nervous? He hasn't forgotten her promise that he's going to have to make it up to her when the holidays are over.

* * *

The awkward tension is gone by the next afternoon. Sam's pretty sure that when the snow rolled in a month too early it brought some kind of seasonal depression along with it, because for a full shift all they do is deal with attempts at suicide. And one successful. And a lost bystander.

A teenage girl, tired and broken after one too many harsh comments from classmates, finds her way to an open balcony at her private school. A lonely lovesick boy follows her up, tries to talk her down while managing to dial 9-1-1 with his phone hidden in his pocket. Team one arrives on scene, quickly goes about taking their places. Raf and the rookie, their barely-adequate-Jules-replacement, take on the task of negotiation. Sarge stays on the ground, his voice hoarse with the bug that's slowly but surely making it's way around town, and serves as the rookie's second while Spike gathers the information. Ed and Sam start surveying the area, looking for some kind of plan b, in case things don't go well with the negotiation. In case words won't cut it. They pace the ground below before agreeing that they're better off taking the chance of being seen while setting up repelling gear from the two adjacent windows. That's when the wind picks up. Icy snow flakes whip and whirl against the school's walls, and before the team can reach them, both teens slip over the edge.

It of course makes the headlines, with emergency news breaks interrupting Jules' endless marathon of British soap operas. It's why she wastes no time clearing off the SUV before Noah wakes from his afternoon nap. She dresses him in his puffy snowsuit and fuzzy toque before buckling him into his carseat. On the drive to HQ she tells him where they're going. She lists the members of the team, _her_ team, and what they mean to him. At the end of the list she throws in the word _Daddy_, and she's met with a grin in her rear view mirror.

Sam runs his hands over his face as team one wraps their debrief, thankful that at the very least their shift is now over. He returns his team mates' end of shift sentiments before following them to the locker room. He showers and dresses, wanting nothing more than to get home to his family and put this day behind him. He stretches his neck from side to side, trying to ease the tension building there as a result of the day's calls. Rubbing at his neck, he focuses mainly on the floor in front of him as he makes his way down the hall.

"Hey Sammo, nice of you to join us."

Shaken from his thoughts he looks up to find Ed, holding Noah as he talks to Jules. "Had to make sure there was no hot water left, Sir," he smirks, turns to Jules. "What, uh, I mean not that I… Hi."

"Hi," she smiles, greeting him with a quick hug. They've been married over a year now and still, PDA are kept to a minimum around HQ. "I was just telling Ed about how Christmas has turned into a logistical nightmare."

Ed gives a sympathetic nod and relinquishes the baby into Sam's arms. "For the first time in twenty years I'm glad Soph & my families both live in the same end of the country." His phone buzzes in his pocket and he gives it a quick look before smiling. "Speaking of which… I'll have to talk to you later Jules. See you tomorrow, Sam."

Sam grins, shuffles his gym bag on his shoulder. "Not that I'm not thrilled to see you two, but did I forget about something?"

Jules gives a small smile as she zips up her jacket and picks up her purse. "Saw the news," she says watching his smile fade. "Figured you could use an end of shift pick-me-up."

He nods to himself, gives a quick smirk. "So you came to pick me up?"

"Well, I figured we could leave your car here for the night and I can just drive you in in the morning. I'm trying some Mom & baby class at the gym tomorrow so I'll be up a little earlier anyway. Or we can just take our separate cars home. Its up to you," she shrugs, as if she hadn't hoped he'd jump at the chance to spend more time with them, if only for the short ride to their house.

He shakes his head at how quickly she back-pedalled on her idea, gives her a smile. "I'm sure my car will be fine here for the night." When she grins he sneaks a kiss onto her cheek. As they reach the elevator he presses the button, smiling at the way Noah's eyes light up at the chimes that mark each passing floor. "Do we have to go straight home?"

She shrugs, adjusts her purse on her shoulder.

"Cool. You want to grab a burrito or something?"

She laughs, glad to see his mood has improved from the tired man she first saw exiting the men's locker room. "Sure, just as long as it's not _just_ a burrito."


	6. Bridges

**A/N: Alright. This took a long time to write because 1- I've been busy trying to find time to Work and Sleep and writing as fallen by the wayside a bit, and 2- it's hella long. 4379 words, actually. So, I guess you guys can be happy about that? It's totally a record for me, and don't get used to it. haha. this chapter is LONG and it was exhausting just to do the read through (i'm used to half this!) so I apologize for any spelling/grammar issues. **

**As always, thank you all for your reviews. :) They make me smile, more than cupcakes.**

**Enjoy :) **

* * *

"Sam, wake up."

Her sudden interruption of his slumber shocks him. Paired with Noah's cries, it terrifies him. In one quick motion he's standing beside the bed, bewildered, eyes scanning the room for any indication of what's going on. "What's wrong?"

She huffs, nose cringes, eyes glare. "Airport." With that she's done with the conversation, frantically flipping through the closet in search of the right shoes. She picked out her entire outfit days before, but kept rethinking the shoes. He takes Noah from her, tries to get him to relax as she shows him these shoes and those shoes or maybe the ones she left downstairs. She's trying to go for appearance over practicality, since the idea of seeing her family again seems to have flipped some neurotic switch he never knew she had. He talks her out of the ones with all the zippers, since security is already a pain in the ass and they don't need the extra work just to take her shoes off. He leaves her to double check the suitcases while he dresses Noah for the day. He's been on plenty of planes, but never with a baby. So he dresses him the way he'd want to be dressed - layers. Layers him up so when he spits up they can just take off the sweater and bag it. So that if he gets too hot, or too cold during the flight they can just remove or reapply a layer of clothing. He's mildly disturbed at how he's thinking of his son's clothing needs as some sort of maintenance protocol, but it seems reasonable. Jules of course finds ways to throw wrenches in his plans as he tells her them from the nursery, demanding that everything match. He's meeting the Callaghans today and he damn well better look good. Because, you know, a 7 month old baby Braddock can look _bad_. It comes at him next. He's instructed on what to wear, which he easily agrees to. He doesn't mind being told what to wear - life with the General, and later the military, prepared him for that. It's what happens when they finally board the plane that he wasn't prepared for.

"Ten."

"Huh?" He shakes his head, wonders if maybe he tuned out the rest of her statement.

"When we argued about Christmas you asked how long it's been since I talked to my Dad. Its been ten years."

He nods, licks his lips. He's not sure what to say to that.

"Ten since I last spoke to him. Seven since he started sending the letters at Christmas."

"You're nervous."

"Of course I'm nervous. I mean really, after what happened last time, I agreed to it. Agreed to stay away, to cut ties. I still don't know why he sends letters. It makes no sense, it was his idea."

Sam nods to himself, eyes wide as they help each other into their seat belts while passing Noah back and forth between them. "This may be the wrong time to ask, but if you're this nervous, then why are we going?"

* * *

The airport is beyond crowded, as should be expected in the days before Christmas. The Braddocks land, quickly and efficiently making their way to baggage claim. It's been ten years since she's made the trip back but Jules knows her way around the airport like the back of her hand. Ten years and her father still meets her in the same place. Pausing mid-step she takes a deep breath, turning to Sam. He simply nods his support and they resume their pace.

Finally reaching her father, Jules gives a smile. "Hi."

"Hi." He's grinning, the same way he would grin when she'd come home from school for the holidays or from the spring break trip with a friend that he'd so badly tried to talk her out of. He's aged, ten years worth or maybe more, but he hasn't changed. He's wearing one of his signature plaid shirts, but she can tell he put some effort into his appearance today. Looks like he was as nervous as she was. "Good to see you."

"You too."

With that they cave and greet each other properly with a hug, awkward, but meaningful.

Pulling back, Jules takes a minute to study the man in front of her. She's not sure she ever realized how much she missed him. She enjoys the moment, reviewing the way his beard has changed shape over the years and the glasses that have changed shape from round to square. They give him the appearance of a young Santa Claus, an incredible improvement from the hillbilly look that used to plague him. He used to only wear them for reading, but they now appear to be necessary for everyday use. Another sign that he's aged. His eyebrows waggle and he clears his throat, ever so slightly nodding to her right. Breaking from her reverie she gives a nervous laugh, turning to pull Sam closer so she can take Noah from him. "Oh um, Dad this is Sam Braddock, Sam this is my Dad, Findlay Callaghan. And this," her grin widens as she turns to show her son to her father, "is Noah. Sorry about the drool, he's been asleep since we got into Alberta."

Her father smiles, nods. Shakes Sam's hand and tells him to call him Fin, makes some lame joke about Mr Callaghan being his father's name.

The ride to the house is appropriate. At least, that's how Sam would classify it. Sam sits in the back with Noah as Jules takes the passenger's seat. They make the small talk over how their flight was before getting filled in on who is already at the house and who should be arriving shortly. There's no discussion of the years lost, aside from a quick introduction to newer parts of town as they drive by.

The house is exactly as Jules had described. An old, but well kept, farmhouse, white with blue shutters with a wrap around porch, making it look like it was built from stereotypes and storybooks. The walkways, along with the lane way, have been neatly cleared of snow, which continues to fall all around them. On one side of the house sits a detached garage, where Jules had explained her father used to spend most of his days working on whatever project her mother would give him. Behind that of course was the barn, though it's blue, unlike the red Sam had expected from Jules' description.

He doesn't seem to be the only confused one though as he catches Jules' face contorting in confusion."You painted the barn?"

Her father sighs as he pulls into the lane way, giving his beard a quick rub. "Not exactly. That old thing burned down a few years back and when the new one went up that designer wife of your brother talked us into painting it to match the house."

Jules nodded, considered what he'd told her. _Designer?_ "Doug and Sue got married?"

Fin gives a chuckle and a nod. "Oh yes they did. She even wanted to have the reception in the damn barn, something about wanting a country wedding. I said hell no to that idea. She levelled off quite a bit after that, got her senses back and agreed to have it in town. Now she actually does the books for the farm."

Jules shrugs, shakes her head as her father prepares to back the truck into the garage. "So why'd they even get married?"

"To make it legitimate?" Her father laughs, returns her shrug. "I don't know, you should ask," he adds with a wink.

Sam simply runs through his mental list of Jules' brothers to keep up and shakes his head. Could be a long visit. The truck comes to a stop and they pile out, Sam and Fin unloading the trunk as Jules tends to Noah who's been fussing since they first rolled into the 'hat. He's been so good all day, she's sure she should have seen it coming. With a sympathetic pout she tries to talk him down, cooing and praising him for his cooperation on the flight and subsequent car ride. As she settles him against her he relaxes and she figures he must just be glad to be out of the carseat. She and Sam follow as her father leads the way to the house, telling off Marty the sheepdog for barking as they begin the trek up the walkway to the door.

"Hey! Juli-Bean!"

With a shocked expression Jules whirls around in place. "What the- Quinn? !"

Sam smirks at the sight of the red haired man jogging towards the house. He finds Quinn on the list - Jules' brother closest to her in age, barely 2 years her senior - and makes an effort to pair the face to the name for later. It could come in handy.

As the man reaches the group he grins, huffs as he fights to catch his breath. "We've been out back hauling wood all morning. I was hoping we'd be done before you got here so I could tag along to pick you guys up but, well, you know Patrick." He smirks, tosses a look over his shoulder to his brother who gives an exaggerated wave in return.

"Hurry your ass!"

"In a minute!" Quinn rolls his eyes, turns back to Jules. "So, are you going to do introductions here or do I have to wait until dinner?"

Jules laughs, makes a mental note to improve her social skills since she's been missing the introduction cues all day. She quickly fills everyone in before smirking and looking over Quinn's shoulder. "I think Pat's about to have a cow back there."

The man snorts, following her gaze back to his impatient older brother. "Pfft, wouldn't be the first time something that big came out of his-"

He's interrupted by his father loudly clearing his throat. "That's enough. I thought you guys were going to drop off some of that wood at the Miles' house before dinner."

"Alright, alright, I get it. All work and no play. I assume I'll see you all for dinner?" He smiles when he gets both shrugs and nods from Sam and Jules, fighting back the urge to comment on his own ability to state the obvious. "Excellent. I've got some stories for both of you. Sam, she ever tell you about how she dropped my first born on her head?" Laughing, he expertly dodges Jules' swinging hand and runs off to join his brother. "I'll tell you about it later!"

Not everyone is there yet and the house is already packed. All at once Sam's bombarded with more Callaghans. There's Doug, Jules' eldest brother who brings along his wife Sue, who he's pretty sure Jules described as younger than her and a little too peppy to ever be a real Callaghan. Three young girls, all somewhere between 5 and 10 in age, come running by for quick hellos before dashing back up the stairs to play. After that he only bothers to connect faces to names, not bothering with who they are to Jules. He'll ask her later. It's a good ten minutes of hugs and introductions before it occurs to either of them to remove their jackets and boots. The crowd retreats to the kitchen as Doug tells them he has to get out to his truck to make sure the other two don't break anything loading the wood.

Relieved to have reached a moment of freedom from the mob, Jules tugs at the zipper on her jacket. Sam offers to hold Noah while she takes her coat and boots off, but Fin interrupts. "I can take him. You need to take your boots off too."

Keeping the shock mostly clear from her face, Jules hands her son off to her father who walks the baby into the living room. Sam watches as Jules keeps her attention on her Dad while she slips her boots off, her glee obvious as she hears the one sided conversation from the next room.

"Well now theres those eyes you've been hiding since we met… ow ow not Poppa's beard…"

Jules' heart melts as she hears her Dad embrace his title, turning wide eyed to Sam. He can only smile back, glad to see things are going fairly well so far. Following her into the living room he watches as her face once again turns to one of confusion. "Where's the tree?"

He stops talking to Noah to glare at his daughter, and Sam has to fight back the urge to smirk because it's the same glare Jules gives when he's said something stupid. "We haven't gotten it yet."

Jules seems to have missed the glare. "Oh. Was there a problem at the tree farm?"

"Oh Julianna," he sighs, strokes his beard after handing Noah back to her. "We can't get the tree until everyone is here to go together, or have you forgotten how we do things around here?" When her only reply is a somewhat ashamed shrug he moves the conversation along. "Brendan and his family are driving up today, so we'll probably go first thing tomorrow morning. Here, let me help you with your bags." With that they're off, up one set of stairs and then another until they find Jules' childhood bedroom. "Sorry about the junk in here. We renovated a couple rooms and had to use this for storage for a while. I would have cleared it out sooner had I known you were coming but time just wasn't on my side. But we did manage to clear enough space for your niece's old crib, so Noah should be comfortable."

Jules shakes her head, noticing the framed pictures leaning against the walls of the room. "Thank you, and Dad don't worry, it's just a few pictures. But I did call over a month ago… that's hardly short notice."

The older man sighs, moves a few pictures out of the way for them before moving back to the doorway. "I guess I just didn't think you'd actually come until you called to say which flight you'd be on." He shrugs, clears his throat. "Anyway, I'll let you guys get settled in. Dinner is at five so feel free to take your time. And Sam, I hope you like chili."

* * *

"I smell like plane," Sam groans, tossing his t-shirt aside. He barely waits for her expression to change before he picks it off of the floor. "Yes ok, no clothes on the floor here either. Let me take him. I'll get him to sleep if you want to get changed or something," he tells her, beginning to pace while rocking Noah.

She shrugs, removing her sweater and jeans in favour of track pants and a t-shirt. "Would you be terribly offended if I fell asleep? Like, right now?"

He smirks, pressing a kiss to Noah's forehead. "Not at all." Slowing his movements he takes a minute to study one of the pictures leaning against the wall. The brown hair and brown eyes hold more than just a genetic similarity. It's almost creepy. "Is that your mom?"

Jules shifts in bed so she can see the picture in question. She grins as she realizes it's her parents' wedding picture. "Yep. Do you know I think that's the only time she managed to get my Dad into a suit?"

Sam smirks, recalls the stereotypical farmer who greeted them at the airport. "Yeah, he doesn't seem like much of a suit person." He shoots her a self-satisfied grin as he realizes Noah is already drifting off to sleep before turning back to the picture. "She's gorgeous, your mom."

She smiles, nods.

"You look just like her." With that he turns to settle Noah in the crib, pausing to sneak a peak at the blush he knows has crept across his wife's cheeks.

* * *

She wakes up alone, momentarily confused. Since when do she and Sam have pink sheets? Its enough to push the fog away and remind her where she is. She's guessing Sam wasn't nearly as tired as she was - after all, he did sleep in until the last minute before their flight - and found his way downstairs. From the sounds of things her brother Brendan has arrived and is busy telling the world's loudest story downstairs. She's sure nobody needed to know about his genius short cut to one of the lesser travelled highways, or the elderly man relieving himself on the side of the road they saw as a result. She just hopes all the kids are far away - like outside or in China - where they won't hear him.

It suddenly occurs to her that if Sam isn't in the bedroom with her, then he must be downstairs. A twinge of fear runs through her bones as she imagines what kind of hell her brothers must be unleashing on him. Or worse, what her father could be saying to him. She quickly changes back into her jeans and sweater and makes her way to the hallway. From the top step she's able to see a portion of the living room, and has to smile. Instead of being badgered with questions Sam is sharing in the laughter drawn by her brother's ranting as he shows one of her nieces how to hold Noah. Wanting to enjoy the sight a moment longer, she takes a seat on the step, leaning on the railing the same way she would when she spied on her brothers as a child.

"Not feeling social?"

She nearly jumps at her father's sudden presence behind her, smirking as she remembers his longstanding talent to move silently through the house and catch his children in whatever foolish act they were committing. "I'll go in a minute."

He nods, finds room to sit next to her on the stair. "I've got to say I was surprised to get a call from you."

She nods slowly, unsure of what to say next.

"I was even more surprised to see your phone listed as Braddock. You changed your name for that boy."

She shrugs, only slightly annoyed in the way he's referring to Sam as _that boy_. "Thought it would be weird not to."

"You have a child with that boy."

She sighs, prays that this conversation isn't building towards some kind of argument. "That boy is my husband, Dad, and his name is Sam."

Her father nods, watching the room below them, not turning to look at her as he says, "I know. Sam Braddock. And you're Jules Braddock. And you two work together."

"Yeah, we do. Both on team one. Well, technically I'm off for another 5 months but," she shakes her head, doesn't bother to finish the thought. "I negotiate, and Sam-" She pauses, wonders if she should continue considering the last time they talked about her work it resulted in a ten year rift.

"He's a sniper. Used to be army. He tells me you two were cleared to continue your relationship by the chief of police himself."

She turns wide eyed to her father, shocked at his knowledge. "What, um, when did…"

"You slept for a long time, kid."

Jules nods to herself, quietly wondering what else they might have discussed but not wanting to ask.

"'He good to you?"

"What? Dad, how can you even ask that?" When she's met with a stern glare that tells her he won't leave without a proper answer. "Of course he is."

He nods, groans at his aching muscles as he stands. "Well then, now that that's settled. How about dinner?"

* * *

The Callaghans are an exhausting bunch. Always talking, bickering, laughing. Never waiting for their turn to talk, simply throwing in their two cents wherever they want, regardless of whether anyone else is talking. In the two hours it took them to find a Christmas tree, Sam managed to catch up on a detailed history of hay bail mishaps, every boy Jules was ever caught crushing on in elementary school, and what he's decided to assume are exaggerated tales involving worms and fishing poles. It's exactly how he'd imagined Jules' family would be.

Settling into bed he sets an alarm on his phone - the one which will ultimately be deemed useless as Jules' nieces provide an early morning alert for the entire house upon finding evidence of Santa's visit - and reviews their plans for the next day. Somewhat foolishly, they've spread themselves a little thin. Christmas morning will consist of breakfast, stockings, and family gift exchange with the Callaghans before they board a plane back to Ontario where they'll have dinner and more gifts with the Braddocks. Sam's glad there'll be two baby crazy Braddock women there who'll be jumping at the chance to spend some time with Noah because he's fairly certain that after a long flight and a turkey dinner both he and Jules will be out-cold on the couch. With a smirk he sets his phone on the night stand and simply watches as Jules returns from the shower and begins to run a brush through her still wet hair. He takes a minute to study her because he can't be sure of what's happening. Her eyes are red, and he wonders if maybe she got shampoo in them. And maybe her cheeks are only wet from her dripping hair and not because she-

"Jules?"

She hiccups, turns to look at him with a lost expression. "Why is it like this?"

"What do you mean?"

She shakes her head, sets the brush down on the dresser and sits on the bed to face him. "It's so… normal. Everyone is so fine with me being here and it's just… it's been ten years since I came home and it's like… Why are they so happy that I'm here?"

His brow furrows and he stares at her in confusion as he brushes a tear away for her. "Why wouldn't they be? Jules, you're his daughter, their sister. Why would they be anything but happy to have you here?"

She shakes her head, rubs at her eyes with frustration as she wills the tears to stop. "Because it's been ten years. Sam, I kept in touch with Quinn and Brendan, mostly because they both live far enough away from Dad that I could visit without running into him, but even then I've barely spoken to either of them in the past few years. And everyone else just got shut out of my life along with Dad, just because we're both too stubborn to listen to each other. Doug and Patrick both… there were weddings and birthdays and Christmases… God Sam I just missed so much and now they're all so happy to have me here that it's like I abandoned them…"

"What? Jules, come here," he shakes his head, pulling her closer to lean against him. "You didn't abandon anybody. You guys had a falling out and you both needed to be ready before you could come back here. You can't blame yourself for needing time. And they're happy to have you here because you're their family, and that's what family does - they're happy to be around each other, and they know there's no use in holding junk like lost time against each other," he sighs, tries not to see the contradiction between what he's saying and how he's been behaving.

With a sniffle Jules gives a small nod and moves to join him under the blankets. They sit in silence for a few minutes before she tilts her head up to look at him. "Did you have fun today?"

He smiles, nods. "I've never done the cut your own tree thing before. You guys do that every year?"

She nods. "For as long as I can remember. Dad couldn't care less if we had a real tree or not, but Mom was always insistent on it. She claimed it had to do with the smell, but I'm pretty sure she just liked to torture us by packing us into snowsuits and sticking us in the car for an hour. Either way, after Mom died Dad became insistent on it as a tradition and continued it." She pauses, shrugs with a smile. "Wait, so where did the Braddocks get their tree then? Did you guys just take the cheaters way out like you and I have been and just buy one from outside the grocery store?"

He sighs, brushing her bangs out of her eyes as he leans further into the pillows. "We always had a fake tree. No one really had the time or the patience to go into the woods and bicker over which one was the right width and height. Decorating though, that was another story. You'd miss out on dessert all Christmas vacation if you didn't help decorate the tree."

Jules gives a small laugh, smiles as she settles down further into his arms. "Sounds like your Mom had some strict traditions too."

He shakes his head, smirks to himself. "No, actually," he pauses to think for a moment, as if his own words are about to surprise him. "That was The General's thing. Mom always wanted to make it look like one of those matchy trees in the stores, but Dad insisted she let us kids do all the decorating. I'd try to make sure there were even amounts of balls and bows in each part of the tree. But then there was Natalie… that girl sure liked her tinsel."

Jules lets out a chuckle, grinning at the thought of the Braddock children bickering over how to decorate. "She ruin your design?"

"Oh you bet. I'd have it all perfectly arranged and in she'd come with that bag of sparkly nonsense and suddenly it would look like Santa had thrown up on our tree. It wasn't the worst part though, Dad had a tendency to pick out the ugliest tree topper the store had to offer and once it went on there was to be no _changes to the design_." He smirks, rolls his eyes.

"Sounds like a fun time."

"Yeah… Yeah it was."

* * *

**A/N: Oh yeah, so nearly 5000 words and we only got through like 2 days with the Callaghans. That would mean the next chapter is at the Braddocks... that could be interesting, hmmm?**


	7. Grape Juice and Glitter Part 1

**A/N: Ok. This chapter is another long one. And it would be much longer, except that the second half is giving me trouble (mostly because I know exactly what I want in it and it's kind of daunting to think about writing for that long). So, I'm splitting it into two chapters so that I can post sooner, and hopefully rely on reviews to push me to write the next part ;) THAT WAS DIRECTED AT YOU! Speaking of which, a Big THANK YOU to everyone who has been reviewing/following/favouriting (and hopefully those last two were intentional for you, and not just because it automatically selects those boxes when you review). Alright. Shutting up now. **

* * *

Flying _on_ Christmas day proves to be similar to flying just before Christmas, only the cheery, excited travellers are replaced by the bitter, the working, the anxious to get home to their family crowd. Once again, Sam and Jules expertly navigate their way through baggage claim and over to where Spike, Natalie, and Mrs. Braddock stand waiting. Sam's first reaction is a snort - for which Jules elbows him - at the sight of the cheesy sweater on Spike. The common theory is that Natalie pulled some kind of fiancé privileges to get him into that one. They're greeted, hugged, and bombarded with questions about their flight - turbulence, in flight movie, take off, landing - before the discussion launches into dinner. The turkey sits in the oven at the Braddock home, only a few minutes drive from the airport, prepared to be eaten within approximately one half hour of their arrival.

Having travelled extensively in her time as the General's wife, Sam's mother is beyond efficient when it comes to loading and unloading vehicles. Arriving at the Braddock family home, Sam and Jules are encouraged to get changed into something dinner appropriate. When they, along with a Santa suit dressed Noah, return to the living room, they're informed that dinner is nearly ready. Still, first thing's first. Unlike the Callaghans, who insist everyone cram around the Christmas tree for one big family picture, Mrs. Braddock is a little more thorough. She insists on getting a group picture, then one for each possible combination of people. Sam gives a small smile as he notes the changes in the Braddock living room, specifically the Christmas tree. As he could have expected, his mother has embraced the opportunity to take control of the decorations. What he never would have expected is the parts that remain the same. While it does appear she found her way to the seasonal decorations department to collect a matching set of sparkling blue and silver ornaments, his mother seems to have felt the need to keep some things consistent with years passed. As a result, a store window quality, high fashion Christmas tree stands strung with surprisingly controlled bursts of tinsel, along with every decoration a Braddock child ever brought home from school.

He shakes his head. "Tinsel? Really, Mom?"

She sighs, takes a break from fussing over the pictures on her camera to stand next to him for a view of the tree. "There wasn't any to begin with, but then your sister got here and she simply wouldn't have a tinsel-less tree. I keep telling myself it's not that bad but… Tell me it's not horrible."

Sam smirks, chews his lip as he tries to sort out the best thing to say. "Well, at least it goes with your colour scheme?"

His mother smiles, rubs his head as she tugs him to her side for a quick hug. "That's my boy. Now, lets get to that dinner."

The group ignores the empty chair at the end of the table, instead focusing their attention on each other. There's a quick discussion of their plans for the week - a trip to an outdoor rink for some skating, boxing day shopping - before the conversation turns more long term. Jules is asked when she plans to return to work, have they found a daycare yet, and how do they plan to balance work and Noah. The answers seem beyond obvious, though Jules tries her best to keep it out of her tone as she replies - _at the end of her year off, haven't started looking yet, and very carefully. _Her point is made clear and Sam takes the hidden cue to move the conversation along. As any brother would, he shifts focus onto his sister.

"You guys set a date yet?"

Spike gives a small smile, while Natalie frowns and shakes her head 'no'. "We've been looking, but I'm not ready to set a date yet."

Jules, who had no trouble choosing a date and planning her entire wedding over the course of 4 months, shakes her head at the idea. "Hasn't it been like a year since you two got engaged? That's 365 dates gone by, what are you waiting for? A leap year?"

Natalie shrugs, helps herself to a second glass of wine, offering some to the rest of the table as she does so. "I just haven't found the right fit yet, I guess."

Never having understood his sister's line of thinking Sam snorts, chuckling at his own comment as he makes it. "Well, just make sure you invite Noah's plus one. He'll definitely be dating by the time you finally decide on a date."

"Sam," his mother warns, turning her gaze to Spike and Natalie. "Don't you listen to him. You take your time and find a date that makes you happy."

The rest of the meal passes without incident, and soon it's time to move on to gifts. Not surprisingly, Noah claims most of the gifts littering the space beneath the tree. From his grandmother and aunt comes a closet's worth of clothes, from practical pyjamas and slippers to a baby police uniform Sam and Jules will refuse to dress him in. Spike, painfully aware of his losing battle against Greg for the title of favourite uncle, presents his nephew with toys upon toys - stuffed animals, toy cars, colourful blocks - and documents his success with several bright flashes of his camera.

By the time he's done, Noah is the wealthiest baby on the block, and the crankiest. Jules sighs, excuses herself so she can put him to bed. Sam takes the opportunity to help his mother with the dishes, while Spike and Natalie sort the remaining gifts into piles by recipient.

As it turns out, Noah is so tired it takes little more than a change of clothes and a quick rocking to get him to bed. Jules is near gleeful as she descends the stairs, but her smile fades as she nears the entrance to the living room.

"Mike, I told you I just haven't decided yet."

"Nat, two weeks ago you told me you wanted a summer wedding and that you were going to officially start planning first thing in the new year."

"Well I never said I wasn't going to-"

"No, you just told your mom you had no idea when you wanted to get married. Do you even want to get married?"

"Of course I do, it's just…"

"Just what?"

"I'm not having this conversation at my mother's, on Christmas."

From the hallway Jules sighs, listens as the two huff at each other before deciding to interrupt them. "A baby to bed in less than 10 minutes, that's got to be some kind of record."

"A Christmas miracle, you might say," Spike smirks, passing Jules a neatly wrapped gift as she sits down.

"Or maybe Jules is just that awesome," Sam grins, returning from the kitchen.

Spike rolls his eyes. "Or maybe you're just-"

"Who's having tea?"

The group smiles, turns to face Mrs. Braddock as she peers into the room.

"Nice segue Mom," Natalie smirks.

"I certainly thought so."

The overheard conversation replays in Jules' head all night. As much as she tries to keep her distance and maintain a drama free life, her inner profiler is sent into overdrive. She can't help but scrutinize every word, every action, that passes between the couple all night. She shoots quick glances at Sam to see if he's picking up on the same thing, and is forced to smile and laugh in return when all she finds is a man engrossed in Christmas cheer. She keeps up with the conversation, keeps track of which gifts have been opened, and responds to Natalie's prying questions of _do you like it?_ and _are you sure?_ She does, and she she is, she just isn't sure how to respond to someone buying her a purse. She's always bought them for herself.

"Jules?"

She realizes that somewhere along the line she must have detached herself from the conversation and her surroundings more than she thought, because suddenly she finds herself alone on the sofa as Sam turns out all the lights except for the ones on the tree. "Huh?"

Sam smirks, shakes his head. "I'll take that as a no on more wine."

She gives a small smile, swirls what remains in her glass. "Yeah I think I'm good."

He nods, takes a seat beside her, pulling her close. "Everything ok?"

"Yeah," she nods back, takes a sip of her drink and grins. "It's just been a really long day."

"Copy that." He smiles, digs through a gift bag. "I'm really excited about this jersey. I wasn't sure you would catch the hint."

She laughs, pulls her feet up onto the sofa as she sinks further into him. "'I'd really like a new one for Christmas' isn't exactly a hint."

He simply smiles, relaxing for the first time that day. "Did you like what I got you?"

With a quick glance towards the running shoes in question she nods. "Yeah. They'll be good for gym."

Sam rolls his eyes, his hand disappearing under his pile of gifts only to return with a small wrapped box. "What? You didn't think that was all I got you, did you?"

She eyes him suspiciously as she sits up a little straighter and sets her glass on the coffee table. "What is it?"

Sam's face falls and he glares at her, unimpressed. "I'm pretty sure you're supposed to open it to find that out." He only smiles back when she replies with an eye roll of her own.

Pulling back the paper and the lid of the box she grins. The tiny emerald pendant - which she hopes to god he realizes is Noah's birthstone - is the perfect size to add to the charms currently dangling from her necklace. Without a word, she unclasps the necklace and sets to work settling in the new addition next to the 'J'.

Sam smiles, watches her and tries to gage her reaction. "So… you like it?"

"Huh?" Her confusion shows as she pulls her eyes away from the half completed task in her hands. She really thought she said so. "I love it. Did you know it's Noah's- "

"Obviously. That's why I bought it. Give me some credit here, Jules."

She grins, plants a quick kiss on his cheek before turning her attention back to her necklace.

"You're sure you like it?"

Shaking her head she doesn't bother to face him. "Positive. This is perfect."

He nods, takes her word for it along with the fact that she's barely looked away from the pendant since opening it. "I was a little worried. Nat came with me to buy it and the whole time she just kept insisting it was too small or I should have gotten yellow gold or- "

"Yellow gold wouldn't have matched the rest of my necklace. It's the perfect size for something I'll wear everyday. And since when do Nat and I have the same taste?"

Smiling, he helps her put the necklace back on before sinking back into the sofa with her. When she lazily flops her legs over his he gives a small chuckle at the obnoxious reindeer head on her socks. "I'm sorry, are you five?"

She scowls, shakes the jingling reindeer socks at him. "They're festive," she tells him, daring him to make another comment on the matter. She watches as he studies the socks a moment longer, before seemingly shrugging and moving on. "So, what do you think it going on between Spike and Natalie?"

He frowns, shakes his head. "Right now? In the room next to my parents' bedroom? Gross, Jules. I don't want to know."

She rolls her eyes, sits up slightly to be able to reach her glass on the coffee table. "No, not like that. Sam, I heard them arguing while you were helping your mom with the dishes."

He sighs. "Jules, people argue. Couples argue. Hell, even you and I argue."

"Not like that, Sam. They were arguing about setting a date for the wedding. It's like Spike's ready to get married any day now but Natalie is refusing to make any real plans. Has she said anything to you?"

"Believe it or not, when my sister and I hang out we don't exactly talk about our relationships. There are some things not meant to be shared, Jules."

"Such as why she refuses to set a date?"

"Not everyone is like us. Not everyone can plan their entire wedding in 4 months and be done with it."

Jules sighs, shakes her head. "I think there's more to it than just wedding planning anxiety. You should talk to Nat about it."

"Me? Why me? Jules…"

"You're her big brother. Who else is going to do it?" she asks, shaking her head in horror as he points right back at her. "No. No Sam, I don't think so. Just please, at the very least, watch the two of them next time they're together. Something is off."

He groans, gives a hesitant nod. "Fine. I'll gawk."

"It's not gawking, Sam, it's-"

"Yeah I know, it's looking out for my sister. I said I'd do it, didn't I?"

She gives a half smile and eases her head onto his shoulder. "Thank you."

* * *

As the sun's overeager morning rays find their way through the spaces in the blinds and onto her face, she mentally curses Sam's east facing childhood bedroom. Blinking at the change in lighting, Jules checks the clock by the bed. It's only 8am and yet it's the latest she's slept in in months. She's nearly panicked by the realization, but finds her bearings in the memory of Sam's promise the night before to get up with Noah so that she can enjoy a decent night's rest. She smiles to herself and eases her head back onto the pillow, before a noise catches her attention from the other side of the bed. A popping noise. A sort of smacking noise.

Rolling over, she's struck with surprise. With a roll of her eyes she can't help but let out a laugh at the sight in front of her. There lies Sam, sleeping like a baby, while on his chest rests an actual baby. Noah seems unfazed by his father's less than conscious state, and is busy playing with the man's lips. Tugging, then letting go, grinning gleefully at the sound that results. Blue eyes gleaming with mischievous intentions. When he switches to slaps to his father's cheeks for a change of sound, Jules decides it's time to put an end to the fun. Pulling her hair into a quick ponytail she crosses the room to put on her robe before returning to the bed to scoop up Noah.

Thankfully, the removal of the weight on his chest - unlike the playful smacks he'd been receiving just minutes earlier - is enough to rouse Sam from his slumber.

"Hey, no, what's going on?" He scans the room as he sits up in bed, quickly assessing the situation. "I told you I'd get up with him."

Jules smiles, perches on the edge of the bed as she settles Noah on her lap. "You did, and then you took a nap while someone watched. Don't worry about it Sam, I'm just going to take him downstairs, you can sleep til whenever you want."

He sighs, watches her as she leaves before heading to the shower.

* * *

Sam excuses himself for a run around 10. Claims he's spent too much time sitting with all the flying they've been doing lately and needs to stretch his legs. Even offers to watch Noah for the afternoon if Jules wants to do the same later, an offer she declines saying she and Spike have plans to cook dinner. With that he's off, jogging down the well kept streets of the base and out into the town.

He's thankful that unlike Alberta, Ontario hasn't quite been hit with snow yet this year. Sure, there's enough to cover the green of the grass, but not so much that it leaves the pavement difficult to run on. He heads down the road into town and makes a quick stop at the last shop on the block. He grabs a pack of grape juice boxes and heads to the floral section. There are a lot of options but the decision is clear, and he quickly takes up a bouquet of purple dyed daises sprinkled with glitter. He pays the cashier and ignores any looks shot his way at the purchase.

He heads around the corner and up the hill, tossing a couple cautious looks over his shoulder as he does so. He's not sure why he does it, just feels the need to be secretive. Maybe it's because he couldn't bring himself to tell Jules where he was really going.

Reaching the gate, he takes a deep breath to steady himself before entering. It's pretty in the winter, an odd description of such a place. Trees, having shed all their leaves months before, instead hold neat piles of snow on their branches. It's well kept, with the walkways and service roads properly cleared. As he approaches he pauses, counts out the stones to be sure he clears off the right one. Something about touching the wrong one terrifies him. The first few brushes of his gloved hand are cautious and hesitant, but he picks up speed and a new sense of dedication at the sight of her name and powers through the light dusting of snow that remains.

When he finishes, he sets the flowers in front of her grave and takes a seat, expertly puncturing a juice box with it's straw. Swallowing hard he raises the box in a small _cheers_ motion. "I promise I won't spill." He gives a small smile at memories of purple stain coverup ops and takes a sip. He's quiet for a long moment as he tries to figure out exactly why he came. Well, he knows exactly why he came - because she's his sister and it's Christmastime - but he's not sure what he had planned to do once he got there. He watches the engravings on the stone as if they might change, carefully rereading the details.

"I don't even know where to start." He slumps in his position and has another sip of purple juice. "I guess it's been a while since I stopped by… Sorry about that." He frowns, wonders if there's something psychologically wrong with a grown man talking to a rock. Her body might be feet beneath him but he's sure she's not there. Why would a little girl spend all her time _there_? If she's anywhere, and he's not entirely sure what his true belief on the matter is, she's likely somewhere with swing sets and monkey bars, or maybe dollhouses and dress up chests. Still, he can't help but feel like this is the only place he can talk to her.

He thinks back to the last time he visited and decides to start from there. "Well, I told you I was going to ask Jules. She said yes. She married me. Still not entirely sure why, but she did. We have a son now," he smiles, pulls his wallet out of his jacket pocket and retrieves his son's picture, along with her's. "Noah. He's amazing. He doesn't drink grape juice yet, but I'm sure we'll get there. And you know I'll tell him all about you." Studying her picture he takes a deep breath, has another furtive look around as he opens his second juice box.

From there he tells her everything. Tells her about how he was shot, how he doesn't really remember it happening and wonders if maybe that was what it was like for her. If maybe she just woke up one day in another place and had to be told what happened. He hopes so - can't stand the idea of his little sister remembering how she died. He tells her of Natalie's engagement, and about Spike. Tells her how she calls him Michelangelo behind his back and Mike to his face, laughs that it's because Spike would simply roll his eyes at her use of his full name. He tells her how he never thought Natalie would end up with a guy like Spike, and how thankful he is that she has. He tests Jules' theory of Natalie's reluctance to set a date for the wedding, rolling his eyes at the realization that he's essentially relying on a child to help him sort out what the issue there is. Still, he figures he has nothing to lose in sharing the information with her, and continues to talk to her.

When he's finished, having spilled everything he had, he shoves at the frost coated eyelashes and hopes the evidence will have faded by the time he returns home. Rising from his spot in the snow, he adjusts the flowers, making sure to leave only the flowers and the small fabric bow that binds them, and not the plastic wrap that was there when he bought it. The flowers, after all, will dry out nicely until they are collected by the groundskeeper, but plastic? No, that's akin to leaving trash on his baby sister's grave. He notes the location of the nearest trash can and plans to detour slightly on his way out to use it.

He says his goodbye, tells her he loves her, he misses her, and blows her a kiss. Turning to leave he pauses, feels the need to do it even if he can't explain why. He dusts off the stone next to hers, more with a sense of duty than anything else. That's when he realizes that the two Braddock stones have less snow on them than the others. They couldn't have been left undisturbed for more than a day or two by his estimate. He figures it was his mother, unless Natalie's feelings about cemeteries have changed dramatically from when they were teens. With the stone clear he nods to himself, pleased that he did what he was supposed to do, but can't bring himself to do anything more.

Quietly, well, as quietly as can be expected with snow crunching beneath his shoes, he makes his way to the trash can and towards the gates. He sends back one last look, a small sad smile, and turns to make his way home.

**TBC**

* * *

******A/N: I know, a little abrupt on the ending there... Like I said, this chapter is basically part 1 of 2.**


	8. Grape Juice and Glitter Part 2

**A/N: Thank you, everyone, for all your reviews on EVERYTHING. I Know, I haven't updated a damn thing in... a long time. I apologize for that. Just know that I haven't abandoned ANY stories. I'm still working on them, I just haven't had a whole lot to write lately. Maybe it's because now that I'm not in school anymore I don't have 2-3 hours per day to slack off and write stories when I'm supposed to be taking notes. Anyway, like I said, I'm still working on all my stories, just as fast as I can!**

**This chapter comes courtesy of Tirsh - she whined that I say i'll write and then don't, and then of course I had to set out to prove her wrong. What I'm sure is months later, here it is.**

* * *

Jules searches the depths of her suitcase for the pantyhose she's sure she threw in there. She hates them, tries to avoid them if at all possible, but had a feeling and packed them. She finds them at the bottom, next to the pair of fuzzy christmas tree socks she'd rather be wearing, and puts them on.

"Avert your eyes, I'm wet," Sam announces as he returns from the adjoining washroom, towel tied around his waist.

She scoffs, rolling her eyes as she turns her attention back to where two toes are tangled in fabric, rebelling against the pantyhose. Sneaks a sideways glance as she fights with the garment, smirking to herself.

"Hey!"

"I'm allowed to look," she says with a shrug, winning the battle against the garment. "I still don't think this is a good idea."

He sighs, buckles his belt and runs the towel through his hair one last time. "It's a cool place - good food, good drinks… it'll be fun."

"'Not the restaurant I'm not thrilled about," she mutters, laying out Noah's pyjamas for the night.

He shoots her a sympathetic smile, buttoning his black dress shirt. "It's been a long time since we went on a date without bringing Noah with us. "

She shakes her head. "Wear the blue shirt, and it has not. We just went out last…"

"Jules, the last time we had an adult only dinner in a restaurant was our anniversary, and that was six months ago. We didn't even get past appetizers."

"Don't blame that on me, Sam. You wanted to leave just as much as I did," she defends, straightening her hair clip in front of the mirror. "Besides, dinner with Spike and your sister doesn't exactly qualify as a date."

He nods, moves to her side. "It's only a couple hours," he assures, pulling her closer with one arm. "There'll be dinner, wine, maybe some dancing…"

"You're going to dance?"

"I never said that. I said there might be some, not that I'd be involved. Come on, please?" he whines, pouting.

She laughs. "Alright, fine. But I swear, as soon as midnight hits we're out of there."

He grins. "Ok, Cinderella."

They meet Spike and Natalie at the bottom of the stairs, posing for a few pictures before being allowed out of the house. It's worse than prom night, which Sam whispers to Jules just a little too loud. He catches a scornful glare from his mother, and is forced to pose for another half dozen photos.

They're released from the house, but not before Jules double checks - for the hundredth time - if Mrs Braddock will be ok with Noah for the evening. The older woman grins, tell her to get the hell out of her house so that she can have some quality time with her grandson.

Their cab's meter, having run during their entire photo shoot because someone isn't impressed to be working New Year's Eve, is already at ten dollars when they get in the car. Sure, it's only ten dollars, but both Sam and Natalie groan, knowing from experience that that literally doubles the cost of their ride.

Fingers drumming on the door, Jules turns to Sam. "Are you sure your mom will be ok with-"

He's already shaking his head, doesn't need her to continue. "Jules, seriously? She had three kids of her own, who were all very close in age and she managed to look after us just fine. I'm sure she can handle one baby, for a matter of hours."

"Right." Nods, turns her attention back to the street out her window. "So, how far is this place?"

"Not far. About 10 minutes, 15 with traffic."

"We could have walked."

"With these two?" Juts a thumb to the back seat where Spike and Natalie - having sampled their fair share of a bottle of champagne back at the house - sit giggling amongst themselves.

Rolling her eyes, Jules shrugs. "Guess not."

* * *

They arrive at the restaurant and Jules has a small town moment, thinking that there's definitely nothing like this back in the Hat. And just as quickly as she's impressed by the military town's best restaurant - the place to be on New Year's Eve - she's reminded of where she is. What might pass as a quiet, upscale restaurant every other night of the year transforms into a crowded party. Walking in they meet the hostess near the bar. A seasoned pro, she barely blinks as she finds their name on the reservation schedule while a crowd of blatantly new recruits cheer on a friend downing shots. Menus in hand, she smiles, asks them to follow her.

Passing the bar, Sam's accosted by an older man. Catches him out of the corner of his eye, grabs Sam and strikes up a conversation. He's already half in the bag, a thick mug sloshing beer towards the crowd as he gestures with his hands.

Sam gives Jules a knowing smirk, takes her hand as if she's about to get swept away by the rowdy crowd. "Jules, this is General Drun-erm, General Drummond, an old friend of the family."

Jules smiles, holds back a cackle at Sam's near slip of the tongue as she shakes the man's hand.

"Sir, this is Jules, my wife."

The words are barely out of Sam's mouth before the man is grinning ear to ear, swinging around on the barstool to get a better look. "Well, then! 'Heard a rumour you got married but had to see for myself. Boy Braddock, she's a looker. I suppose that makes you the pretty young lady Sam was buying daisies for-"

Sam interrupts, clearing his throat loudly. "Well it was nice seeing you Sir, but our table is ready and we're starving." Shaking the man's hand in farewell he nearly drags Jules away, quickly stopping at the other side of the bar before joining Spike and Natalie where they sit watching them impatiently. Turning to her he sighs. "Look Jules, about what he said…"

"It's ok Sam, you don't have to explain."

"No…" he stammers, shakes his head. "Look I don't want you to think that I… I mean I wasn't… they were for my sister," he whispers, hoping what he's saying doesn't sound like the worst lie of all time.

"I know." Jules nods with a serious tone and a slight smile.

"You know?"

"You came back from the world's longest run with a glitter on your jacket, a purple tongue, and grape breath. I thought at first that maybe you got distracted and visited an old friend but your mom asked if you'd be going by the cemetery and it all just made sense."

He lets out the breath he's been holding and the world's smallest smile. "I just… I don't know, I guess I… I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

She shakes her head, hand tightening on his. "You don't need to be."

He smiles, steals a quick kiss before glancing at where their table sits half occupied and waiting for him. "Shall we?"

* * *

Dinner orders are placed quickly. In preparation for the night's festivities the restaurant reduced their menu to a few signature dishes, making it easy to get quick orders from patrons as well as keep things simple in the kitchen. It also means less time spent listening to Natalie debate, aloud, which fish she prefers since there's only one option.

Conversation at the table is lively, and once Spike and Sam agree to disagree on their predictions for the rest of the hockey season Natalie tosses in her own contribution, a raving review of the latest crime show.

Sam stares at his sister, stunned. "Are you joking me?"

Jules shakes her head, smiling. "No, sorry, not a good show. Soap opera, maybe, but it shouldn't be labeled a crime show."

"I thought it was inspiring," Natalie insists.

"Insp- oh god… Spike? A little help?" Sam requests.

With a sip of his beer Spike simply shakes his head, throwing his hands up in surrender. "I'm going to need to plead the fifth on this one."

"Fif-" Jules rolls her eyes, "Spike, you're Canadian."

"Well, what I was going to say might not go over so well at this table," Spike defends, glancing at Sam.

With a thoughtful look, Sam nods, standing up from the table. "Yeah… yeah I'm going for another beer. Anyone else?"

As she waits for Sam to return with her drink, Jules turns her attention back to Spike and Natalie. Having moved on from the crime show debate, the two easily fall into a new discussion. Spike asks if Natalie has read the book he left out for her, she tells him she did, but forgot it back at their apartment when they left on Christmas vacation. He smirks, tells her he's sure she did, and she sets out to prove herself by explaining, in detail, what she's read so far.

With a smile, Jules excuses herself from the table. Checking that Sam is still in line at the bar, she discretely takes her coat from the hook by the table and makes her way outside. Catching a chill from the winter air, she wraps her coat more tightly around her. She can't be bothered to zip it up - figures she won't be outside long enough for it to matter. Reaching into a pocket, she fiddles with the numbers on her cell phone. Beginning a walk - which feels more like the beginning of a pace - down the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, she stops by a street lamp. Staring at her phone, she locks and unlocks it, putting it in her pocket, pulling it back out.

He finds her there, interrogating her cell phone like it's a hot call and Ed and Sarge are breathing down her neck to get the information. Careful not to spook her, he quietly approaches from behind her.

"I swear I didn't call."

He smiles, figuring he should have known she's too aware of her surroundings to be snuck up on. "Of course you didn't."

"I didn't," she insists, frowning as he joins her, leaning against the lamppost. "I wanted to, but I didn't."

"If I hadn't come out here?"

She rolls her eyes, smirking as she notices his lack of a coat. "You must be cold," she tells him, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him closer.

"Oh, so now you're just going to warm me up?"

"Have to distract you from all the questions somehow, don't I?"

"Hmmm," he smirks to himself, pulling her closer and pressing a kiss to her temple. "You alright?"

She nods against his shoulder, relaxing into their embrace. "I'm fine. Just being Momma Worrier." The restaurant door swings open, letting the music of the dance floor inside reach their ears. At the familiar tune, Jules grins, brown eyes staring up at Sam. "Sam…"

"No."

"I seem to recall mention of dancing when you persuaded me that this was a good idea."

He shakes his head, backing away from her. "And I said, more than once, that I would not be dancing."

"Sam," she pleads, grasping his hand with both of hers and tugging him towards the door. "Come on. Please? Please."

"Jules…"

"Sam," she stops, gives him a serious look. "You dragged me, practically against my will, away from my baby on New Year's Eve. The least you can do, _as my husband_, is dance with me."

He tilts his head to the side, eyes narrowing at her.

"Oh yes, I went there."

* * *

Having pressed her luck about as far as it's going to go on the dance floor with Sam, Jules gives in and follows him back to the table.

Pulling his buzzing cell phone from his pocket Sam shrugs. "I'll catch up to you."

Though she wonders who could be calling, Jules nods and happily joins Spike and Natalie at the table. The couple quickly invite her in on their conversation, but she can't help but feel that maybe she's interrupted. Maybe they recently changed the topic of conversation, out of necessity rather than interest. A look towards the door tells her Sam is on his way back to the table. Relieved, she goes with the conversation, hoping that Sam's contribution will at least lessen the awkwardness.

Acknowledging him with a nod as he sits down beside her, Jules asks, "Who was that?"

Sam sighs. "My mom checking in."

Jules takes a second, searching his expression for the details he isn't giving her. "And?"

"Apparently Noah isn't too thrilled about whatever tooth is coming in."

Jules nods, takes a sip of her drink and rolls her eyes. "He hasn't been thrilled about any of them. Is she going to be ok with him?"

"Yeah, she's fine. She said she just wanted to let us know so that we didn't panic if he was still up when we got home." He frowns, spins his phone on the table in front of him.

"We should go."

"What? Jules, it's barely 11:30."

"Neither of us are going to have any fun knowing Noah's miserable. Besides, now I just feel bad for your mom. She shouldn't have to deal with teething - that's our job."

Sam waits a minute, appears to be on the verge of protesting but agrees as he recalls the sounds of Noah's cries as they overpowered his mother's voice on the phone. Saying quick goodbyes to Spike and Natalie, the two work their way through the crowd and out of the restaurant. It's early - earlier than they'd prefer - to be leaving the party of the town, but it has it's benefits. They easily find a cab and are home before they know it, thanks to the lack of traffic.

Arriving at the Braddock family home, Jules exits the cab, nearly jogging to the front door. Sam, having had the money ready before they even turned onto their street, is right behind her. They find Noah wrapped in his grandmother's arms, sobbing as he mourns the arrival of his newest tooth. "I really didn't mean for you two to leave your party," Mrs Braddock insists, rising out of the rocker in the living room as she hands the baby to Jules.

"Oh don't worry about it," Jules smiles, focusing her attention on her son. "It's ok, Mommy's here," she soothes, pressing a quick kiss to each rosy cheek.

Sam gives his mother a quick smile as he thanks her for giving up her night so they could go out, and watches as Jules tries to talk down their son. He watches as she paces, rocks, stills, whispers, rocks again as Noah continues on. Sighing, he approaches, convinces her to hand over the baby. "This isn't good, Jules."

Jules nods, hunts through her suitcase. "Just… keep talking to him. I was sure I threw a ring in here somewhere… although maybe I put it in the fridge…" she mutters, mostly to herself, as she leaves the room.

"What the-" Sam shakes his head at her exit and turns back to Noah. "Come on buddy, it's not the end of the world," he pleads, frowning when the crying continues.

"Here, try this," Jules tells him, handing him the teething ring she packed just in case.

Sam nods, silently praying it works. It does, for a moment, and he lets out the breath he's been holding. "There you go, isn't that better?" The words have barely left his lips when Noah tires of the solution, returning to his previous state of discontent. "Jules?"

She nods, takes Noah back in her arms and begins rocking as she paces the room with him. "I know, I know, you hate those teeth, don't you?"

"Jules, this isn't good," Sam shakes his head, repeating his words from earlier.

Jules simply frowns, shrugs in return. "Yeah, it's going to be a long night."

The crease in Sam's forehead deepens in confusion. "Long ni- Jules, you act like this has happened before."

"Well, he does have other teeth Sam. It's not his first time."

His face falls as he watches her. "You mean he's been like this before? Is he like this every time?"

Jules shrugs, rubs soothing, yet ineffective, circles on Noah's back. "Well, not every time. But it happens."

"Why didn't I know that?" he asks, feeling the slight sting of being left out of the details.

"I don't know. 'Guess it usually happens while you're at work. Actually for some reason it's usually when you're on nights."

Sam shakes his head, reaching out and taking Noah for what he considers his turn to do the pacing. "So you what? Just try to get him to stop crying all night while I'm at work?"

"Mostly," she admits, kicking off the heels she's just realized she's still wearing.

Sam shakes his head in disbelief. "That makes no sense. You're always awake when I get home after the night shift."

"And?"

"And…when do you sleep?"

Tossing her shoes aside she gives him one more shrug. "I don't know, in between Noah's tooth crises? I sleep when he sleeps." She moves across the room, standing in front of him and pressing another kiss to Noah's tear soaked cheek. "I'm going to run and get changed, and then you can do the same. Will you be ok with him for a couple minutes?"

He nods, watches as she runs up the stairs. Returning his gaze to his son he sighs, gives talking him down another shot as he thinks about what Jules has told him. He wonders just how many nights she's spent pacing their house trying to console an inconsolable infant. Wonders why she never mentioned it. Wonders if there's anything else she doesn't tell him.


	9. New Year, New House Guest

**A/N: Took a while... it's been interesting times... How about those new eps eh?! And in the interest of not spoiling people, I'll shut up now.**

**Rushing to post this before bedtime, so I hope I've caught all the oopses. **

* * *

Boxes line the floor along the far wall of the living room, each labelled in Jules' familiar scrawl. Securing the lid on the last box, Sam tosses the packing tape aside and lets out an overly dramatic sigh.

Watching him with one eyebrow raised, Jules shakes her head. "What's that for?"

With another sigh he shrugs, moves to stand beside her. "Nothing, it's just… not Christmas anymore."

Cracking a smile she rolls her eyes. "Oh you poor man," she laughs, wrapping her arms around his torso. "How ever will you last until next year?"

"It'll be tough," he grins, putting an arm around her shoulder and pulling her closer. With another quick count of the boxes he frowns. "You're going to be ok putting this all away by yourself?"

She shrugs, resting her head on his shoulder. "I don't see why not."

"Right, Super Jules, I forgot. But, if you don't get a chance to move the heavier ones - for whatever reason - I don't mind moving them when I get home."

"Ok," she nods as she smiles, checking the time on her watch. "I should go finish unloading the dishwasher before Noah gets up, and you should probably be getting to work."

"Ah yes, can't be late. That would be a terrible start to the new year," he laughs, though his face is serious. Reaching the door he stuffs his feet in his boots, expertly tying them before tugging on his jacket.

"Don't forget your gloves, please."

"Got them right here," he assures her, patting the pockets of his jacket. "Geez Mom, such a worrier," he teases, sticking out his tongue.

"Laugh all you want, but if you have freezing hands when you get home you'll be keeping them to yourself for the night."

* * *

Standing over the pot on the stove, Natalie takes a deep breath and smiles. "Michelangelo, that sauce smells divine," she coos, turning to face him.

"Why thank you," Spike grins, tugging her towards him and into an embrace. "It's for our dinner tomorrow night, but, if you're real nice I might let you have some while I'm at work tonight," he taunts, winking.

"Hmmm well..." she sighs in mock annoyance, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. "I would but I don't want to make you late for your shift." Giving him an over exaggerated frown, she drops him another quick kiss before pulling away.

With a groan and a frown of his own he moves to the stove, carefully removing the pot from the heat. "That was pure evil, Nat."

She smiles, lifts herself up onto the kitchen island. "You shouldn't taunt me just before you leave for work. It's your own fault, really."

"You know what would solve that problem?" he asks over his shoulder, digging through the cupboards for a container to store the sauce in.

Natalie smirks. "You quit your job so you can just spend your days around the house cooking me delicious meals and catering to my every whim?"

Spike shakes his head, turning to face her. "While I would love that, what I was going to say was maybe once we're married we can move out of this apartment and get ourselves a house closer to work. That would definitely give us more time at home."

Natalie shrugs, slips off the counter. "Yeah... I suppose we could do that."

Spike watches as she wanders into the living room, needlessly reorganizing the magazines on the coffee table. "Why do you always do that?"

With another shrug she moves on to fluffing the sofa cushions. "Organize the magazines? Because they're a mess. Call it a habit, probably came from being raised in a military home."

Spike shakes his head, frowning as he rounds the island to face her. "That's not what I was talking about and you know it. We were fine, having a nice little morning together before work but as soon as I mentioned getting married you shut down."

"Mike, don't start..."

"No. No. You know what? It's started. We've been engaged for over a year now and while that might be the average engagement for some people it's not normal that we haven't planned a damn thing."

Natalie scowls, shakes her head in disagreement. "That's not true we planned... well, we went to look at those venues a couple months ago."

"Oh, sorry, that's right, we did go look at venues way back in November," he agrees, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he rolls his eyes. "But, as I recall, none of those met your _requirements _so we said we'd keep looking and we never did."

She shoots him a glare, pushing past him to resume his earlier task of putting away the sauce. "Well, excuse me for wanting the perfect location," she mutters.

"I get wanting the perfect place but really Natalie, you haven't even wanted to look at the places I've suggested we go for tours of. This shouldn't be that difficult. I mean, really, look at Sam and Jules - they didn't want to have to agonize over the when and where so they set a maximum, looked at five places, and agreed that they would choose the one that fit them best."

Natalie huffs, turning to face him once more. "What? Are you suggesting we do that?"

He shakes his head 'no', shrugging as he joins her back in the kitchen. "I don't know, I just think that-"

"Good, because in case you haven't noticed, we are not Sam and Jules. In fact I think we might be the exact opposite of those two, because frankly I could never just stand by while you put your life at risk, no matter what some code shit said."

"Nat, you know that's not what I'm saying..."

"No? Well, what _are_ you saying?" she snarls, staring him down with her hands on her hips.

"I'm saying that it's fine to want the perfect place to get married and to have a hard time trying to find it, but at some point, to me at least, it just seems like it comes down to either you want to get married or you don't," he sighs, lowers his voice, "and I'm beginning to think you don't."

"Well then, maybe I don't." She stares back at him, her jaw locked, for what feels like hours as they both process what's just been said.

"What?" Spike breathes. He stands stunned, cursing as his phone begins to buzz loudly on the counter beside him. Reading the display he groans. "Look, I have to go, I'll-"

Natalie simply stares, gives a quick nod.

"Natalie I really have to..." he fumbles with his phone as he puts it in his pocket, moving to the hall where his gym bag sits waiting for him. "We have to talk later."

* * *

Still buttoning his uniform shirt, Spike rushes into the briefing room. Eyes on the floor he prays he hasn't caught anyone's attention.

"Mr. Scarlatti, nice of you to join us."

"That's my line," Ed smirks at Sam who simply shrugs. Shaking his head, he turns his attention back to Spike. "Is there an explanation or are you just on your own timetable now?"

Frowning, Spike shakes his head. "It's a long story, sorry I'm late. What's the plan for today?"

And just like that, patrols are assigned and before he knows it, Spike is strapped into the passenger's seat as Sam tours the east end of the city. He puts on a good act - got used to hiding what was going on at home when his father was busy disapproving of his career choice - but sometime over the past however many years Sam turned into an expert profiler. He'll blame Jules for that.

Without so much as a nod in his direction, Sam begin's his interrogation. "So?"

"So what?" His answer is quick, unintentionally dripping with signs of a short temper and he knows he's screwed.

Sam doesn't flinch, maintains his posture in the driver's seat, yet intimidation comes off him in waves. He doesn't even turn to face him but Spike can feel the heat of the invisible light Sam's shining in his eyes, demanding answers.

"Everything's fine," Spike squeaks.

Rolling his eyes Sam frowns. "Yeah, you sound like everything's fine. Come on, Spike."

"Nat and I… we…" shaking his head, Spike exhales hard, "not having a great morning is all. It's fine."

"You sure?" Sam asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah… Yeah I'm sure," Spike assures, pushing the morning's conversation out of his mind. "Coffee?"

* * *

After settling the kettle on the stove, Jules picks Noah up out of his jolly jumper. Moving to the living room window, she pushes a curtain aside. "Oh wow it's really snowing out there now." She plants a kiss on Noah's cheek, pointing at the snowflakes dancing outside the window. "Daddy's going to be all over this. He's off tomorrow, so I bet he'll be wanting us to play outside in the cold all afternoon," she tells him with a frown, watching as a plow goes by outside. "Oh, there goes the big trucks!" she smiles, watching as Noah's eyes widen at the sudden sound. "There's the kids across the street, looks like they're building another snowman. And there's a little squirrel, probably running home to his Mama. And there's... Aunt Natalie?" She furrows her brow, watching the woman trudging her way over the snowbank left behind by the plow.

Opening the front door Jules gives Natalie a questioning look, beckoning her to join them in the house. "Nat, what're you doing here?"

Natalie shakes her head, ridding her hair of a few lingering snowflakes. "Oh, well, Mike had to go to work so I thought I'd come hang out with my brother for a little while. Is he around?"

Jules frowns, closing the door behind Natalie. "No, he's at work. He works the same shifts as Spike, remember?"

"Right, yes," Natalie nods, turns to leave. "I'll go then. Just uh, tell Sammy I stopped by?"

Jules frowns, shakes her head as she wonders if Natalie's red nose and eyes are simply the result of her walk through the snow or something else. "Did you walk here?"

"No, I took the bus to the park down the road and walked from there. My car's in the shop."

"You walked all the way from there?"

"I wasn't sure if the bus came down this way. I'm sorry, I should probably go."

Jules shakes her head, locks the door. "I've got the kettle going, why don't you stay? I'm having hot chocolate but if you don't want that I'm sure there's some tea around here somewhere. If you don't mind sticking around I can drive you home after Noah's nap."

Natalie nods, removing her coat and hanging it near the door. When the kettle whistles from the next room, she quickly takes Noah from Jules. Sitting on the couch, she makes small talk with the baby while she waits.

"Ok," Jules calls from the kitchen with a sigh. "We have tea, but only ginger or peppermint."

"Hot chocolate is fine." Natalie smirks, whispers to Noah that she'll teach him all about the fine warm beverages of the world since his parents seem to be out of touch with the subject.

Returning to the living room, Jules sets one mug on the coffee table in front of Natalie before settling onto the couch with her own. "So," she begins, quietly pondering the polite way to ask _what are you doing here?_

"I told Mike I didn't want to get married."

Jules stops mid sip, ignores the hot liquid burning her tongue as she stares at her sister-in-law.

Natalie sighs as she nods to affirm her point, pausing to kiss the hand Noah decides belongs in her face. "I just... we were arguing and then it just sort of came out and then he left for work and I...came here."

* * *

Hopping back in the truck, Spike places the two cups of coffee in the holders between the seats. Noticing the perplexed look on his patrol partner's face he gives a nod. "What's up?"

Re-reading the message on his phone, Sam shakes his head. "Not sure. Jules texted asking me to call her asap."

Frowning, Spike reaches for his seatbelt. "That doesn't sound good. Think something's wrong with Noah?"

"I do now."

"Oh.. I'm sure he's fine. I mean she'd call if he wasn't right? Jules wouldn't just text if-"

"Spike, relax. I was kidding. We have a system for these things, not that we've ever had to use it… But I'm sure Jules would choose 9-1-1 over _call me ASAP_, right?" With a shake of his head Sam pushes the thoughts out of his mind. "I'm calling. Did you get the bagels?"

Letting out a stifled curse, Spike throws his head back in frustration. "No… I told you I wasn't having a great morning. I'll go back for them."

"Don't worry about it, I'll get them." With that, Sam's out of the truck, phone already pressed to his ear. Patience running thin, he barely waits for a greeting at the other end of the line before speaking. "Jules? What's wrong? What's going on? Is it Noah? Is he ok?"

"Whoa, whoa, Sam, calm down."

"Jules what-" he demands, nearly running into another patron exiting the coffee shop.

"We're fine here Sam, that's not why I texted you."

"Well whats so important I had to call right away?" he huffs.

With a groan she reiterates the difference between _as soon as possible_ and _right away_, a distinction that simply serves to piss Sam off. Catching the tone of annoyance in his voice she sighs, and moves onto the true reason for her call. She tells him about Natalie the broken hearted snowman who stumbled up to their door in the middle of what she considers light snow, and he considers a blizzard. Tells him what she knows - that they had a disagreement, that Natalie spouted off something she didn't mean to - and gives him a message to relay to Spike.

* * *

Quietly closing the door behind him, Sam sighs as his eyes fall on the pair of boots by the door. Even though Jules had told him ahead of time that Natalie would still be there, he had secretly hoped she'd find her way back to her own place instead. A quick scan of the living room tells him Jules didn't get a chance to move many of the boxes and he smiles, shaking his head. Sure, he said he'd move them after he got home, but his nice warm bed upstairs is waiting for him. So, in what he decides he'll have to refer to as an _executive decision_, he leaves them there for another time.

Because he's resourceful, or so he likes to claim, he uses the light of his cellphone to find his way up the darkened staircase and down the hall. The closed guest room door at the far end of the hall makes him shake his head, but at the moment he's got better places to be. As usual, his first stop is Noah's room. His usual routine of checking to make sure the baby monitor is on, and maybe a few minutes of spectating, is set aside when he opens the door to his son's room.

Blue eyes stare back at him in the dimmed light of the room. Smirking to himself, admittedly a little pleased to have the opportunity to see a wake Noah before bed, he crosses the room to the crib where Noah stands, watching him. "What are you doing up?" he whispers.

When the only response he's granted is a smile, he figures he'll fill in the blanks on his own. After taking a few moments to visit with his baby - a hug, a kiss planted on a cheek, and a gentle return to the crib - he makes his way to his own bedroom.

Her peaceful face tells him she's asleep, and while he would gladly watch her as he waits for sleep to claim him as well, something in her posture tells him she'll wake up the second he starts to crawl into bed. Jeans and t-shirt are tossed into the laundry hamper and he moves quickly to claim the empty side of the bed.

As expected, she immediately rolls into him, snuggling closer as he pulls the blankets over them both.

"Hey," she whispers, barely bothering to open her eyes.

"Hey," he replies, dropping a kiss to her forehead.

"How'd he take it?" she mumbles.

Shaking his head, Sam sighs. "Not great. He was all ready to follow me home after shift."

"But he didn't?"

With another sigh, he shrugs. "I talked him out of it. 'Figured it would be best if they both took the night, thought before they talk to each other."

Nodding against his chest, she smiles. "Good thinking."

"I do that from time to time," he smirks, before turning thoughtful. "Have you ever wished you could leave?"

"What?" immediately her eyes are fully open.

"Have you ever wished you could just escape to somewhere else after an argument? Like what Natalie did… have you ever wanted somewhere else to stay?"

Shaking her head, she kisses him. "That's not really my style. I'd much rather stay here and argue with you than go sleep anywhere else."

"Me too," he assures with a nod. "I just wonder how bad things are if she can't stay at their place."

Catching his train of thought she frowns. "I don't know the whole story Sam, but I don't get the feeling Spike hurt her if that's where you're going with this."

"Oh I know that," he nods, moving closer to her. "I spent the day patrolling with Spike and I get the feeling that maybe he's hurting worse than she is. I think I'm just worried about them."

She sighs, closing her eyes as she rests her forehead on his chest. "We'll figure it out in the morning."

For several minutes he waits in the darkness, enjoying the closeness, before she speaks again.

"Sam?"

"Yeah."

"Your hands aren't freezing."


End file.
